LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIPORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


ff( 


Wl 


LIFE'S  HANDICAP 


LIFE'S    HANDICAP 


BEING   STORIES    OF 


MINE    OWN    PEOPLE 


BY 

RTTDYARD    KIPLING 


I  met  a  hundred  men  on  the  road  to  Delhi  and  they  were  all  my  brothers. 

Native  Proverb. 


Neto  $orfe 
THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1897 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 

BY 
MACMII.LAN  &  CO. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  September,  1891.    Reprinted  October,  1891 ; 

May,  1892 ;  March,  1895  ;  October,  1896; 

September,  1897. 


ROBERT  DRUMHOND,   KLKCTROTYPBR  AND  PRINTER,  NEW  YORK 


TO 

«.  K.  m. 

FROM 

K.  K. 

1887-89 
C.  M.  G. 


PREFACE 

IN  Northern  India  stood  a  monastery  called  The  Chubara 
of  Dhunni  Bhagat.  No  one  remembered  who  or  what 
Dhunni  Bhagat  had  been.  He  had  lived  his  life,  made  a 
little  money  and  spent  it  all,  as  every  good  Hindu  should 
do,  on  a  work  of  piety- -the  Chubara.  That  was  full  of 
brick  cells,  gaily  painted  with  the  figures  of  Gods  and 
kings  and  elephants,  where  worn-out  priests  could  sit  and 
meditate  on  the  latter  end  of  things:  the  paths  were  brick 
paved,  and  the  naked  feet  of  thousands  had  worn  them 
into  gutters.  Clumps  of  mangoes  sprouted  from  between 
the  bricks;  great  pi  pal  trees  overhung  the  well-windlass 
that  whined  all  day;  and  hosts  of  parrots  tore  through  the 
trees.  Crows  and  squirrels  were  tame  in  that  place,  for 
they  knew  that  never  a  priest  would  touch  them. 

The  wandering  mendicants,  charm-sellers,  and  holy 
vagabonds  for  a  hundred  miles  round  used  to  make  the 
Chubara  their  place  of  cull  and  rest.  Mahomedan,  Sikh, 
and  Hindu  mixed  equally  under  the  trees.  They  were  old 
men,  and  when  man  has  come  to  the  turnstiles  of  Night  all 
the  creeds  in  the  world  seem  to  him  wonderfully  alike  and 
colourless. 

Gobind  the  one-eyed  told  me  this.     He  was  a  holy  man 


Vlll  PREFACE 

who  lived  on  an  island  in  the  middle  of  a  river  and  fed  the 
fishes  with  little  bre:ul  pellets  twice  a  day.  In  flood-time, 
when  swollen  corpses  stranded  themselves  at  the  foot  of 
the  island,  Gobiud  would  cause  them  to  be  piously  burned, 
for  the  sake  of  the  honour  of  mankind,  and  having  regard 
to  his  own  account  with  God  hereafter.  But  when  two- 
thirds  of  the  island  was  torn  away  in  a  spate,  Gobind  came 
across  the  river  to  Dhunni  Bhagat's  Chubara,  he  and  his 
brass  drinking  vessel  with  the  well-cord  round  the  neck, 
his  short  arm-rest  crutch  studded  with  brass  nails,  his  roll 
of  bedding,  his  big  pipe,  his  umbrella,  and  his  tall  sugar- 
loaf  hat  with  the  nodding  peacock  feathers  in  it.  He 
wrapped  himself  up  in  his  patched  quilt  made  of  every 
colour  and  material  in  the  world,  sat  down  in  a  sunny 
corner  of  the  very  quiet  Chubara,  and,  resting  his  arm  on 
his  short-handled  crutch,  waited  for  death.  The  people 
brought  him  food  and  little  clumps  of  marigold  flowers, 
and  he  gave  his  blessing  in  return.  He  was  nearly  blind, 
and  his  face  was  seamed  and  lined  and  wrinkled  beyond 
belief,  for  he  had  lived  in  his  time  which  was  before  the 
English  came  within  five  hundred  miles  of  Dhunni  Bha- 
gat's Chubara. 

When  we  grew  to  know  each  other  well,  Gobind  would 
tell  me  tales  in  a  voice  most  like  the  rumbling  of  heavy 
guns  over  a  wooden  bridge.  His  tales  were  true,  but  not 
one  in  twenty  could  be  printed  in  an  English  book,  because 
the  English  do  not  think  as  natives  do.  They  brood  over 
matters  that  a  native  would  dismiss  till  a  fitting  occasion; 
and  what  they  would  not  think  twice  about  a  native  will 
brood  over  till  a  fitting  occasion:  then  native  and  English 


PREFACE  IX 

stare  at  each  other  hopelessly  across  great  gulfs  of  mis- 
comprehension. 

' And  what/  said  Gobind  one  Sunday  evening,  'is  your 
honoured  craft,  and  by  what  manner  of  means  earn  you 
your  daily  bread?' 

'  I  am/  said  I,  '  a  kerani — one  who  writes  with  a  pen 
upon  paper,  not  being  in  the  service  of  the  Government.' 

'  Then  what  do  you  write  ? '  said  Gobind.  (  Come  nearer, 
for  I  cannot  see  your  countenance,  and  the  light  fails/ 

'  I  write  of  all  matters  that  lie  within  my  understand- 
ing, and  of  many  that  do  not.  But  chiefly  I  write  of  Life 
and  Death,  and  men  and  women,  and  Love  and  Fate 
according  to  the  measure  of  my  ability,  telling  the  tale 
through  the  mouths  of  one,  two,  or  more  people.  Then 
by  the  favour  of  God  the  tales  are  sold  and  money  accrues 
to  me  that  1  may  keep  alive/ 

<  Even  so/  said  Gobind.  '  That  is  the  work  of  the 
bazar  story-teller;  but  he  speaks  straight  to  men  and 
women  and  does  not  write  anything  at  all.  Only  when 
the  tale  has  aroused  expectation,  and  calamities  are  about 
to  befall  the  virtuous,  he  stops  suddenly  and  demands 
payment  ere  he  continues  the  narration.  Is  it  so  in  your 
craft,  my  son?' 

'  I  have  heard  of  such  things  when  a  tale  is  of  great 
length,  and  is  sold  as  a  cucumber,  in  small  pieces.' 

'  Ay,  I  was  once  a  famed  teller  of  stories  when  I  was 
begging  on  the  road  between  Koshin  and  Etra;  before  the 
last  pilgrimage  that  ever  I  took  to  Orissa.  I  told  many 
tales  and  heard  many  more  at  the  rest-houses  in  the  evening 
when  we  were  merry  at  the  end  of  the  march.  It  is  in  my 


X  PREFACE 

heart  that  grown  men  are  but  as  little  children  in  the 
matter  of  tales,  and  the  oldest  tale  is  the  most  beloved.' 

*  With  your  people  that  is  truth,'  said  I.  '  But  in  regard 
to  our  people  they  desire  new  tales,  and  when  all  is 
written  they  rise  up  and  declare  that  the  tale  were  better 
told  in  such  and  such  a  manner,  and  doubt  either  the 
truth  or  the  invention  thereof.' 

'  But  what  folly  is  theirs  ! '  said  Gobind,  throwing  out 
his  knotted  hand.  '  A  tale  that  is  told  is  a  true  tale  as 
long  as  the  telling  lasts.  And  of  their  talk  upon  it — 
you  know  how  Bilas  Khan,  that  was  the  prince  of  tale- 
tellers, said  to  one  who  mocked  him  in  the  great  rest- 
house  on  the  Jhelum  road  :  "  Go  on,  my  brother,  and 
finish  that  I  have  begun,"  and  he  who  mocked  took  up 
the  tale,  but  having  neither  voice  nor  manner  for  the  task 
came  to  a  standstill,  and  the  pilgrims  at  supper  made 
him  eat  abuse  and  stick  half  that  night.' 

'Nay,  but  with  our  people,  money  having  passed,  it  is 
their  right;  as  we  should  turn  against  a  shoeseller  in 
regard  to  shoes  if  those  wore  out.  If  ever  I  make  a  book 
you  shall  see  and  judge.' 

'  And  the  parrot  said  to  the  falling  tree,  "Wait,  brother, 
till  I  fetch  a  prop  ! '  said  Gobind  with  a  grim  chuckle. 
'  God  has  given  me  eighty  years,  and  it  may  be  some  over. 
I  cannot  look  for  more  than  day  granted  by  day  and  as  a 
favour  at  this  tide.  Be  swift.' 

'In  what  manner  is  it  best  to  set  about  the  task,' 
said  I,  '  0  chiefest  of  those  who  string  pearls  with 
their  tongue?' 

'How  do  I  know?    Yet' — he  thought   for  a  little — 


PREFACE  xi 

'  how  should  I  not  know  ?  God  has  made  very  many 
heads,  but  there  is  only  one  heart  in  all  the  world  among 
your  people  or  my  people.  They  are  children  in  the 
matter  of  tales.' 

But  none  are  so  terrible  as  the  little  ones,  if  a  man 
misplace  a  word,  or  in  a  second  telling  vary  events  by  so 
much  as  one  small  devil/ 

'Ay,  I  also  have  told  tales  to  the  little  ones,  but  do 

thou  this '     His  old  eyes  fell  on  the  gaudy  paintings 

of  the  wall,  the  blue  and  red  dome,  and  the  flames  of  the 
poinsettias  beyond.  '  Tell  them  first  of  those  things  that 
thou  hast  seen  and  they  have  seen  together.  Thus  their 
knowledge  will  piece  out  thy  imperfections.  Tell  them 
of  what  thou  alone  hast  seen,  then  what  thou  hast  heard, 
and  since  they  be  children  tell  them  of  battles  and  kings, 
horses,  devils,  elephants,  and  angels,  but  omit  not  to  tell 
them  of  love  and  suchlike.  All  the  earth  is  full  of  tales 
to  him  who  listens  and  does  not  drive  away  the  poor 
from  his  door.  The  poor  are  the  best  of  tale-tellers ;  for 
they  must  lay  their  ear  to  the  ground  every  night.' 

After  this  conversation  the  idea  grew  in  my  head,  and 
Gobind  was  pressing  in  his  inquiries  as  to  the  health  of 
the  book. 

Later,  when  we  had  been  parted  for  months,  it  hap- 
pened that  I  was  to  go  away  and  far  off,  and  I  came  to 
bid  Gobind  good-bye. 

'  It  is  farewell  between  us  now,  for  I  go  a  very  long 
journey,'  I  said. 

'  And  I  also.  A  longer  one  than  thou.  But  what  of 
the  book  ? '  said  he. 


Xil  PREFACE 

'  It  will  be  born  in  due  seusou  if  it  is  so  ordained.' 

'  I  would  I  could  see  it/  said  the  old  man,  huddling 
beneath  his  quilt.  'But  that  will  not  be.  I  die  three 
days  hence,  in  the  night,  a  little  before  the  dawn.  The 
term  of  my  years  is  accomplished.' 

In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  a  native  makes  no  mis- 
calculation as  to  the  duy  of  his  death.  He  has  the 
•foreknowledge  of  the  beasts  in  this  respect. 

'  Then  thou  wilt  depart  in  peace,  and  it  is  good  talk, 
for  thou  hast  said  that  life  is  no  delight  to  thee.' 

'But  it  is  a  pity  that  our  book  is  not  born.  How 
shall  I  know  that  there  is  any  record  of  my  name  ? ' 

'Because  I  promise,  in  the  forepart  of  the  book, 
preceding  everything  else,  that  it  shall  be  written, 
Gobind,  sadhu,  of  the  island  in  the  river  and  awaiting 
God  in  Dhunni  Bhagat's  Chubara,  first  spoke  of  the 
book/  said  I. 

'And  gave  counsel — an  old  man's  counsel.  Gobind, 
son  of  Gobind  of  the  Chumi  village  in  the  Karaon 
tehsil,  in  the  district  of  Mooltan.  Will  that  be  written 
also?' 

'  That  will  be  written  also.' 

'  And  the  book  will  go  across  the  Black  Water  to  the 
houses  of  your  people,  and  all  the  Sahibs  will  know  of 
me  who  am  eighty  years  old  ? ' 

'All  who  read  the  book  shall  know.  I  cannot 
promise  for  the  rest.' 

'  That  is  good  talk.  Call  aloud  to  all  who  are  in  the 
monastery,  and  I  will  tell  them  this  thing.' 

They  trooped  np,  faquirs,  sadlius,  sunny asis,  byragis, 


PREFACE  xni 

nihangs,  and  mullahs,  priests  of  all  faiths  and  every 
"degree  of  raggedness,  and  Gobind,  leaning  upon  his 
crutch,  spoke  so  that  they  were  visibly  filled  with  envy, 
and  a  white-haired  senior  bade  Gobind  think  of  his 
latter  end  instead  of  transitory  repute  in  the  mouths 
of  strangers.  Then  Gobind  gave  me  his  blessing  and 
I  came  away. 

These  tales  have  been  collected  from  all  places,  and  all 
sorts  of  people,  from  priests  in  the  Chubara,  from  Ala 
Yar  the  carver,  Jiwun  Singh  the  carpenter,  nameless 
men  on  steamers  and  trains  round  the  world,  women 
spinning  outside  their  cottages  in  the  twilight,  officers 
and  gentlemen  now  dead  and  buried,  and  a  few,  but 
these  are  the  very  best,  my  father  gave  me.  The  greater 
part  of  them  have  been  published  in  magazines  and  news- 
papers, to  whose  editors  I  am  indebted  ;  but  some  are  new 
on  this  side  of  the  water,  and  some  have  not  seen  the 
light  before. 

The  most  remarkable  stories  are,  of  course,  those  which 
do  not  appear — for  obvious  reasons. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  LANG  MEN  o'  LARUT         .....       1 

REINGELDER  AND  THE  GERMAN  FLAG  .  .  .6 

THE  WANDERING  JEW     .  ...      10 

THROUGH  THE  FIRE  .  .  .  .  .15 

THE  FINANCES  OP  THE  GODS      .  .  .  .  .21 

THE  AMIR'S  HOMILY        ......      27 

JEWS  IN  SHUSHAN  ......      32 

THE  LIMITATIONS  OF  PAMBE  SERANG  .  .  .  .37 

LITTLE  TOBRAH    .......      43 

BUBBLING  WELL  ROAD    .  .  .  .  .  .47 

THE  CITY  OP  DREADFUL  NIGHT  .  .  .  .52 

GEORGIE  PORGIE  .......      60 

NABOTH       ........      71 

THE  DREAM  OF  DUNCAN  PARRENNESS  .  .  .76 

THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY     .  .  .83 

THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD         ....    115 

ON  GREENHOW  HILL  ....    144 


xvi  CONTENTS 

PAOF 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS      ....  .ICO 

THK  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT     .....    184 

WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  .....    212 

AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  .  .  .  .  .241 

THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS          ....    267 

THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST          .....    290 

THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  ....    807 

NAMGAY  DOOLA     .  .  .  .  .  .  .322 

BERTRAN  AND  BIMI          ......    836 

MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER     .  .  .  .    843 


THE  LANG  MEN  0'  LARUT  ' 

THE  Chief  Engineer's  sleeping  suit  was  of  yellow  striped 
with  blue,  and  his  speech  was  the  speech  of  Aberdeen. 
They  sluiced  the  deck  under  him,  and  he  hopped  on  to 
the  ornamental  capstan,  a  black  pipe  between  his  teeth, 
though  the  hour  was  not  seven  of  the  morn. 

'  Did  you  ever  hear  o'  the  Lang  Men  o'  Larut  ? '  he 
asked  when  the  Man  from  Orizava  had  finished  a  story 
of  an  aboriginal  giant  discovered  in  the  wilds  of  Brazil. 
There  was  never  story  yet  passed  the  lips  of  teller,  but 
the  Man  from  Orizava  could  cap  it. 

'  No,  we  never  did,'  we  responded  with  one  voice.  The 
Man  from  Orizava  watched  the  Chief  keenly,  as  a  possible 
rival. 

'I'm  not  telling  the  story  for  the  sake  of  talking 
merely,'  said  the  Chief,  'but  as  a  warning  against  betting, 
unless  you  bet  on  a  perrfect  certainty.  The  Lang  Men  o' 
Larut  were  just  a  certainty.  I  have  had  talk  wi'  them. 
Now  Larut,  you  will  understand,  is  a  dependency,  or  it 
may  be  an  outlying  possession,  o'  the  island  o'  Penang, 
and  there  they  will  get  you  tin  and  manganese,  an'  it  may 
hap  mica,  and  all  manner  o'  meenerals.  Larut  is  a 
great  place.' 

'But  what  about  the  population?'  said  the  Man  from 
Orizava. 

'The  population,'  said   the   Chief   slowly,   'were   few 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


2  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

but  enorrmous.  You  must  understand  that,  exceptin'  the 
tin-mines,  there  is  no  special  inducement  to  Europeans 
to  reside  in  Larut.  The  climate  is  warm  and  remarkably 
like  the  climate  o'  Calcutta  ;  and  in  regard  to  Calcutta, 
it  cannot  have  escaped  your  observation  that — 

*  Calcutta    isn't    Larut  ;    and   we've  only  just    come 
from  it,'  protested  the  Man   from   Orizava.     '  There's  a 
meteorological  department  in  Calcutta,  too.' 

'  Ay,  but  there's  no  meteorological  department  in 
Larut.  Each  man  is  a  law  to  himself.  Some  drink 
whisky,  and  some  drink  brandipanee,  and  some  drink 
cocktails — vara  bad  for  the  coats  o'  the  stomach  is  a 
cocktail — and  some  drink  sangaree,  so  I  have  been 
credibly  informed  ;  but  one  and  all  they  sweat  like  the 
packing  of  a  piston-head  on  a  fourrteen-days'  voyage  with 
the  screw  racing  half  her  time.  But,  as  I  was  saying, 
the  population  o'  Larut  was  five  all  told  of  English — that 
is  to  say,  Scotch — an'  I'm  Scotch,  ye  know,'  said  the 
Chief. 

The  Man  from  Orizava  lit  another  cigarette,  and 
waited  patiently.  It  was  hopeless  to  hurry  the  Chief 
Engineer. 

*  I  am  not  pretending  to  account  for  the  population  o' 
Larut  being  laid  down  according  to  such  fabulous  dimen- 
sions.    0'  the  five  white  men  engaged  upon  the  extrac- 
tion o'  tin  ore  and  mercantile  pursuits,  there  were  three 
o'  the  sons  o'  Anak.     Wait  while  I  remember.     Lammitter 
was  the  first  by  two  inches— a  giant  in  the  land,  an'  a 
terreefic  man  to  cross  in  his  ways.     From  heel  to  head  he 
was  six  feet  nine  inches,  and  proportionately  built  across 
and  through  the  thickness  of  his  body.     Six  good  feet 
nine  inches — an  overbearin'  man.     Next  to  him,  and  I 
have  forgotten   his  precise  business,  was   Sandy   Vowle. 
And  he  was  six  feet  seven,  but  lean  and  lathy,  and  it 


THE  LANG  MEN  0'  LARUT  3 

was  more  in  the  elasteecity  of  his  neck  that  the  height 
lay  than  in  any  honesty  o'  bone  and  sinew.  Five  feet 
and  a  few  odd  inches  may  have  been  his  real  height. 
The  remainder  came  out  when  he  held  up  his  head,  and 
six  feet  seven  he  was  upon  the  door-sills.  I  took  his 
measure  in  chalk  standin'  on  a  chair.  And  next  to  him, 
but  a  proportionately  made  man,  ruddy  and  of  a  fair 
countenance,  was  Jock  Coan — that  they  called  the  Fir 
Cone.  He  was  but  six  feet  five,  and  a  child  beside 
Lammitter  and  Vowle.  When  the  three  walked  out 
together,  they  made  a  scunner  run  through  the  colony  o' 
Larut.  The  Malays  ran  round  them  as  though  they  had 
been  the  giant  trees  in  the  Yosemite  Valley — these  three 
Lang  Men  o'  Larut.  It  was  perfectly  ridiculous — a  lusus 
natures — that  one  little  place  should  have  contained 
maybe  the  three  tallest  ordinar'  men  upon  the  face  o' 
the  earth. 

*  Obsairve  now  the  order  o'  things.  For  it  led  to  the 
finest  big  drink  in  Larut,  and  six  sore  heads  the  morn 
that  endured  for  a  week.  I  am  against  immoderate 
liquor,  but  the  event  to  follow  was  a  justification.  You 
must  understand  that  many  coasting  steamers  call  at 
Larut  wi'  strangers  o'  the  mercantile  profession.  In  the 
spring  time,  when  the  young  cocoanuts  were  ripening, 
and  the  trees  o'  the  forests  were  putting  forth  their 
leaves,  there  came  an  American  man  to  Larut,  and  he 
was  six  foot  three,  or  it  may  have  been  four,  in  his 
stockings.  He  came  on  business  from  Sacramento,  but 
he  stayed  for  pleasure  wi'  the  Lang  Men  o'  Larut. 
Less  than  a  half  o'  the  population  were  ordinar'  in  their 
girth  and  stature,  ye .  will  understand — Howson  and 
Nailor,  merchants,  five  feet  nine  or  thereabouts.  He 
had  business  with  those  two,  and  he  stood  above  them 
from  the  six  feet  threedom  o'  his  height  till  they  went 


4  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

to  drink.  In  the  course  o'  conversation  he  said,  as  tall 
men  will,  things  about  his  height,  and  the  trouble  of  it  to 
him.  That  was  his  pride  o'  the  flesh. 

'"As  the  longest  man  in  the  island—  "  he  said,  but 
there  they  took  him  up  and  asked  if  he  were  sure. 

'"I  say  I  am  the  longest  man  in  the  island,"  he  said, 
"and  on  that  I'll  bet  my  substance." 

'  They  laid  down  the  bed-plates  of  a  big  drink  then  and 
there,  and  put  it  aside  while  they  called  Jock  Coan  from 
his  house,  near  by  among  the  fireflies'  winking. 

' "  How's  a'  wi'  you  ? "  said  Jock,  and  came  in  by  the 
side  o'  the  Sacramento  profligate,  two  inches,  or  it  may 
have  been  one,  taller  than  he. 

'  "  You're  long,"  said  the  man,  opening  his  eyes.  "  But 
I  am  longer."  An'  they  sent  a  whistle  through  the  night 
an'  howkit  out  Sandy  Vowle  from  his  bit  bungalow,  and 
he  came  in  an'  stood  by  the  side  o'  Jock,  an'  the  pair  just 
fillit  the  room  to  the  ceiling-cloth. 

'The  Sacramento  man  was  a  euchre-player  and  a  most 
profane  sweerer.  "You  hold  both  Bowers,"  he  said,  "but 
the  Joker  is  with  me." 

'"  Fair  an'  softly,"  says  Nailor.  "Jock,  whaur's  Lang 
Lammitter  ?  " 

'"Here,"  says  that  man,  putting  his  leg  through  the 
window  and  coming  in  like  an  anaconda  o'  the  desert 
furlong  by  furlong,  one  foot  in  Penang  and  one  in  Batavia, 
and  a  hand  in  North  Borneo  it  may  be. 

'  "  Are  you  suited  ?  "  said  Nailor,  when  the  hinder  end 
o'  Lang  Lammitter  was  slidden  through  the  sill  an'  the 
head  of  Lammitter  was  lost  in  the  smoke  away  above. 

'The  American  man  took  oat  his  card  and  put  it  on 
the  table.  "Esdras  B.  Longer  is  my  name,  America  is 
my  nation,  'Frisco  is  my  resting-place,  but  this  here  beats 
Creation,'*  said  he.  "Boys,  giants— side-show  giants— I 


THE  LANG  MEN  O'  LARUT  5 

minded  to  slide  out  of  my  bet  if  I  had  been  overtopped, 
on  the  strength  of  the  riddle  on  this  paste-board.  I 
would  have  done  it  if  you  had  topped  me  even  by  three 
inches,  but  when  it  comes  to  feet — yards — miles,  I  am 
not  the  man  to  shirk  the  biggest  drink  that  ever  made 
the  travellers'-joy  palm  blush  with  virginal  indignation, 
or  the  orang-outang  and  the  perambulating  dyak  howl 
with  envy.  Set  them  up  and  continue  till  the  final  con- 
clusion." 

'  0  mon,  I  tell  you  'twas  an  awful  sight  to  see  those 
four  giants  threshing  about  the  house  and  the  island,  and 
tearin'  down  the  pillars  thereof  an'  throwing  palm-trees 
broadcast,  and  currling  their  long  legs  round  the  hills  o' 
Larut.  An  awfu'  sight  !  I  was  there.  I  did  not  mean 
to  tell  you,  but  it's  out  now.  I  was  not  overcome,  for  I 
e'en  sat  me  down  under  the  pieces  o'  the  table  at  four  the 
morn  an'  meditated  upon  the  strangeness  of  things. 

'  Losh,  yon's  the  breakfast-bell ! ' 


REINGELDER  AND  THE  GERMAN  FLAG1 

HANS  BREITMANN  paddled  across  the  deck  in  his  pink 
pyjamas,  a  cup  of  tea  in  one  hand  and  a  cheroot  in  the 
other,  when  the  steamer  was  sweltering  down  the  coast  on 
her  way  to  Singapur.  He  drank  beer  all  day  and  all 
night,  and  played  a  game  called  'Scairt'  with  three 
compatriots. 

'I  haf  washed/  said  he  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  'but 
dere  is  no  use  washing  on  these  hell-seas.  Look  at  me — I 
am  still  all  wet  und  schweatin'.  It  is  der  tea  dot  makes 
me  so.  Boy,  bring  me  Bilsener  on  ice/ 

'You  will  die  if  you  drink  beer  before  breakfast/ 
said  one  man.  'Beer  is  the  worst  thing  in  the  world 
for ' 

'Ya,  I  know — der  liver.  I  haf  no  liver,  und  I  shall 
not  die.  At  least  I  will  not  die  obon  dese  benny  sdeamers 
dot  haf  no  beer  fit  to  trink.  If  I  should  haf  died,  I  will 
haf  don  so  a  hoondert  dimes  before  now — in  Shermany, 
in  New  York,  in  Japon,  in  Assam,  und  all  over  der  inside 
barts  of  South  Amerique.  Also  in  Shamaica  should  I  haf 
died  or  in  Siam,  but  I  am  here  ;  und  der  are  my  orchits 
dot  I  have  drafelled  all  the  vorld  round  to  find.' 

He  pointed  towards  the  wheel,  where,  in  two  rough 
wooden  boxes,  lay  a  mass  of  shrivelled  vegetation,  supposed 
by  all  the  ship  to  represent  Assam  orchids  of  fabulous 
value. 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


REINGELDER  AND  THE  GERMAN   FLAG  7 

Now,  orchids  do  not  grow  in  the  main  streets  of  towns, 
and  Hans  Breitmann  had  gone  far  to  get  his.  There 
was  nothing  that  he  had  not  collected  that  year,  from  king- 
crabs  to  white  kangaroos. 

*  Lisden  now/  said  he,  after  he  had  been  speaking  for 
not  much  more  than  ten  minutes  without  a  pause;  ' Lisden 
und  I  will  dell  you  a  sdory  to  show  how  bad  und  worse 
it  is  to  go  gollectin'  und  belief  vot  anoder  fool  haf  said. 
Dis  was  in  Uraguay  which  was  in  Amerique — North  or 
Sout'  you  would  not  know — und  I  was  hoontin'  orchits 
und  afery dings  else  dot  I  could  back  in  my  kanasters — 
dot  is  drafelling  sbecimen-gaces.  Dere  vas  den  mit  me 
anoder  man — Reingelder,  dot  vas  his  name — und  he  vas 
hoontin'  also  but  only  coral-snakes — joost  Uraguay  coral- 
snakes — aferykind  you  could  imagine.  I  dell  you  a  coral- 
snake  is  a  peauty — all  red  und  white  like  coral  dot  has 
been  gestrung  in  bands  upon  der  neck  of  a  girl.  Dere  is 
one  snake  howefer  dot  we  who  gollect  know  ash  der 
Sherman  Flag,  pecause  id  is  red  und  plack  und  white, 
joost  like  a  sausage  mit  druffles.  Reingelder  he  was 
naturalist — goot  man — goot  trinker — better  as  me!  "By 
Gott,"  said  Reingelder,  "  T  will  get  a  Sherman  Flag  snake 
or  I  will  die."  Und  we  toorned  all  Uraguay  upside- 
behint  all  pecause  of  dot  Sherman  Flag. 

'  Von  day  when  we  was  in  none  knows  where — 
shwingin'  in  our  hummocks  among  der  woods,  oop  comes 
a  natif  woman  mit  a  Sherman  Flag  in  a  bickle-bottle — 
my  bickle-bottle — und  we  both  fell  from  our  hummocks 
flat  ubon  our  pot — what  you  call  stomach — mit  shoy  at 
dis  thing.  Now  I  was  gollectin'  orchits  also,  und  I 
knowed  dot  der  idee  of  life  to  Reingelder  vas  dis  Slier- 
man  Flag.  Derefore  I  bicked  myself s  oop  und  I  said, 
"  Reingelder,  dot  is  your  find." — "  Heart's  true  friend,  dou 
art  a  goot  man,"  said  Reingelder,  und  mit  dot  he  obens 


8  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

der  bickle-bottle,  und  der  natif  woman  she  shqueals. 
"Herr  Gott!  It  will  bite."  I  said — pecause  iu  Uraguay 
a  man  must  be  careful  of  der  insects — "  Reingelder,  shpifii- 
gate  her  in  der  alcohol  und  den  she  will  be  all  right. "- 
"  Nein,"  said  Reingelder,  "  I  will  der  shnake  alife  examine. 
Dere  is  no  fear.  Der  coral  snakes  are  mitout  shting- 
apparatus  brofided."  Boot  I  looked  at  her  het,  und  she 
vas  der  het  of  a  boison-shnake — der  true  viper  cranium, 
narrow  und  contract.  "It  is  not  goot,"  said  I,  "she  may 
bite  und  den — we  are  tree  hoondert  mile  from  afery- 
wheres.  Broduce  der  alcohol  und  bickle  him  alife." 
Reingelder  he  had  him  in  his  hand — grawlin'  und  grawlin' 
as  slow  as  a  woorm  und  dwice  as  guiet.  "  Nonsense,"  says 
Reingelder.  "Yates  haf  said  dot  not  von  of  der  coral- 
snakes  haf  der  sack  of  boison."  Yates  vas  der  crate 
authorite  ubon  der  reptilia  of  Sout'  Amerique.  He  haf 
written  a  book.  You  do  not  know,  of  course,  but  he  vas 
a  crate  authorite. 

'I  gum  my  eye  upon  der  Sherman  Flag,  grawlin'  und 
grawlin'  in  Reingelder's  fist,  und  der  het  vas  not  der  het 
of  innocence.  "  Mein  Gott,"  I  said.  "It  is  you  dot  will 
get  der  sack — der  sack  from  dis  life  here  pelow!  " 

'"Den you  may  haf  der  snake,"  says  Reingelder,  pattin* 
it  ubon  her  het.  "  See  now,  I  will  show  you  vat  Yates 
haf  written!" 

'Und  mit  dot  he  went  indo  his  dent,  unt  brung  out 
his  big  book  of  Yates;  der  Sherman  Flag  grawlin'  in  his 
fist.  "Yates  haf  said,"  said  Reingelder,  und  he  throwed 
oben  der  book  in  der  fork  of  his  fist  und  read  der  passage, 
proofin'  conglusivement  dot  uefer  coral-snake  bite  vas 
boison.  Den  he  shut  der  book  mit  a  bang,  und  dot 
shqueeze  der  Sherman  Flag,  und  she  nip  once  und 
dwice. 

'  "  Der  liddle  fool  he  haf  bit  me,"  says  Reingelder. 


REINGELDER  AND  THE  GERMAN  FLAG      9 

'  Dese  things  was  before  we  know  apout  der  perman- 
ganat-potash  injection.  I  was  discomfordable. 

'"Die  oop  der  arm,  Reingelder,"  said  I,  "und  trink 
whisky  ontil  you  can  no  more  trink." 

' "  Trink  ten  tousand  tevils  !  I  will  go  to  dinner," 
said  Reingelder,  und  he  put  her  afay,  und  it  vas  very  red 
mit  emotion. 

'We  lifed  upon  soup,  horse-flesh,  und  beans  for  dinner, 
but  before  we  vas  eaten  der  soup,  Reingelder  he  haf  hold 
of  his  arm  und  cry,  "  It  is  genumben  to  der  clavicle.  I 
am  a  dead  man;  und  Yates  he  haf  lied  in  brint  !" 

'  I  dell  you  it  vas  most  sad,  for  der  symbtoms  dot 
came  vas  all  dose  of  strychnine.  He  vas  doubled  into 
big  knots,  und  den  undoubled,  und  den  redoubled  mooch 
worse  dan  pefore,  und  he  frothed.  I  vas  mit  him,  saying, 
"Reingelder,  dost  dou  know  me?"  but  he  himself,  der 
inward  gonsciousness  part,  was  peyond  knowledge,  und 
so  I  know  he  vas  not  in  bain.  Den  he  wrop  himself  oop 
in  von  dremendous  knot  und  den  he  died — all  alone  mit 
me  in  Uraguay.  I  was  sorry,  for  I  lofed  Reingelder,  und 
I  puried  him,  und  den  I  took  der  coral-snake — dot  Sher- 
man Flag — so  bad  und  dreacherous,  und  I  bickled  him 
alife. 

'  So  I  got  him :  und  so  I  lost  Reingelder/ 


THE  WANDERING  JEW1 

'  IF  you  go  once  round  the  world  in  an  easterly  direction, 
you  gain  one  day/  said  the  men  of  science  to  John 
Hay.  In  after  years  John  Hay  went  east,  west,  north, 
and  south,  transacted  business,  made  love,  and  begat  a 
family,  as  have  done  many  men,  and  the  scientific  informa- 
tion above  recorded  lay  neglected  in  the  deeps  of  his  mind 
with  a  thousand  other  matters  of  equal  importance. 

When  a  rich  relative  died,  he  found  himself  wealthy 
beyond  any  reasonable  expectation  that  he  had  entertained 
in  his  previous  career,  which  had  been  a  chequered  and 
evil  one.  Indeed,  long  before  the  legacy  came  to  him, 
there  existed  in  the  brain  of  John  Hay  a  little  cloud — a 
momentary  obscuration  of  thought  that  came  and  went 
almost  before  he  could  realise  that  there  was  any  solution 
of  continuity.  So  do  the  bats  flit  round  the  eaves  of  a 
house  to  show  that  the  darkness  is  falling.  He  entered 
upon  great  possessions,  in  money,  land,  and  houses;  but 
behind  his  delight  stood  a  ghost  that  cried  out  that  his 
enjoyment  of  these  things  should  not  be  of  long  duration. 
It  was  the  ghost  of  the  rich  relative,  who  had  been  per- 
mitted to  return  to  earth  to  torture  his  nephew  into  the 
grave.  Wherefore,  under  the  spur  of  this  constant 
reminder,  John  Hay,  always  preserving  the  air  of  heavy 
business-like  stolidity  that  hid  the  shadow  on  his  mind, 
turned  investments,  houses,  and  lands  into  sovereigns — 

»  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW  11 

rich,  round,  red,  English  sovereigns,  each  one  worth 
twenty  shillings.  Lands  may  become  valueless,  and 
houses  fly  heavenward  on  the  wings  of  red  flame,  but  till 
the  Day  of  Judgment  a  sovereign  will  always  be  a  sovereign 
— that  is  to  say,  a  king  of  pleasures. 

Possessed  of  his  sovereigns,  John  Hay  would  fain  have 
spent  them  one  by  one  on  such  coarse  amusements  as  his 
soul  loved;  but  he  was  haunted  by  the  instant  fear  of 
Death;  for  the  ghost  of  his  relative  stood  in  the  hall  of 
his  house  close  to  the  hat-rack,  shouting  up  the  stairway 
that  life  was  short,  that  there  was  no  hope  of  increase  of 
days,  and  that  the  undertakers  were  already  roughing  out 
his  nephew's  coffin.  John  Hay  was  generally  alone  in 
the  house,  and  even  when  he  had  company,  his  friends 
could  not  hear  the  clamorous  uncle.  The  shadow  inside 
his  brain  grew  larger  and  blacker.  His  fear  of  death  was 
driving  John  Hay  mad. 

Then,  from  the  deeps  of  his  mind,  where  he  had  stowed 
away  all  his  discarded  information,  rose  to  light  the 
scientific  fact  of  the  Easterly  journey.  On  the  next 
occasion  that  his  uncle  shouted  up  the  stairway  urging 
him  to  make  haste  and  live,  a  shriller  voice  cried,  '  Who 
goes  round  the  world  once  easterly,  gains  one  day.' 

His  growing  diffidence  and  distrust  of  mankind  made 
John  Hay  unwilling  to  give  this  precious  message  of  hope 
to  his  friends.  They  might  take  it  up  and  analyse  it. 
He  was  sure  it  was  true,  but  it  would  pain  him  acutely 
were  rough  hands  to  examine  it  too  closely.  To  him 
alone  of  all  the  toiling  generations  of  mankind  had  the 
secret  of  immortality  been  vouchsafed.  It  would  be 
impious — against  all  the  designs  of  the  Creator — to  set 
mankind  hurrying  eastward.  Besides,  this  would  crowd 
the  steamers  inconveniently,  and  John  Hay  wished  of  all 
things  to  be  alone.  If  he  could  get  round  the  world  in 


12  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

two  months — some  one  of  whom  he  had  read,  he  could 
not  remember  the  name,  had  covered  the  passage  in 
eighty  days — he  would  gain  a  clear  day;  and  by 
steadily  continuing  to  do  it  for  thirty  years,  would  gain 
one  hundred  and  eighty  days,  or  nearly  the  half  of  a  year. 
It  would  not  be  much,  but  in  course  of  time,  as  civilisa- 
tion advanced,  and  the  Euphrates  Valley  Railway  was 
opened,  he  could  improve  the  pace. 

Armed  with  many  sovereigns,  John  Hay,  in  the 
thirty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  set  forth  on  his  travels, 
two  voices  bearing  him  company  from  Dover  as  he 
sailed  to  Calais.  Fortune  favoured  him.  The  Euphrates 
Valley  Railway  was  newly  opened,  and  he  was  the 
first  man  who  took  ticket  direct  from  Calais  to  Calcutta 
—  thirteen  days  in  the  train.  Thirteen  days  in  the  train 
are  not  good  for  the  nerves;  but  he  covered  the  world 
and  returned  to  Calais  from  America  in  twelve  days  over 
the  two  months,  and  started  afresh  with  four  and  twenty 
hours  of  precious  time  to  his  credit.  Three  years  passed, 
and  John  Hay  religiously  went  round  this  earth  seeking 
for  more  time  wherein  to  enjoy  the  remainder  of  his 
sovereigns.  He  became  known  on  many  lines  as  the 
man  who  wanted  to  go  on;  when  people  asked  him  what 
he  was  and  what  he  did,  he  answered — 

'  I'm  the  person  who  intends  to  live,  and  I  am  trying 
to  do  it  now/ 

His  days  were  divided  between  watching  the  white 
wake  spinning  behind  the  stern  of  the  swiftest  steamers, 
or  the  brown  earth  flashing  past  the  windows  of  the 
fastest  trains;  and  he  noted  in  a  pocket-book  every 
minute  that  he  had  railed  or  screwed  out  of  remorseless 
eternity. 

'  This  is  better  than  praying  for  long  life,'  quoth  John 
Hay  as  he  turned  his  face  eastward  for  his  twentieth  trip. 


THE  WANDERING  JEW  13 

The  years  had  done  more  for  him  than  he  dared  to  hope. 
By  the  extension  of  the  Brahmaputra  Valley  line  to  meet 
the  newly-developed  China  Midland,  the  Calais  railway 
ticket  held  good  via  Karachi  and  Calcutta  to  Hongkong. 
The  round  trip  could  be  managed  in  a  fraction  over  forty- 
seven  days,  and,  filled  with  fatal  exultation,  John  Hay 
told  the  secret  of  his  longevity  to  his  only  friend,  the 
house-keeper  of  his  rooms  in  London.  He  spoke  and 
passed;  but  the  woman  was  one  of  resource,  and  im- 
mediately took  counsel  with  the  lawyers  who  had  first 
informed  John  Hay  of  his  golden  legacy.  Very  many 
sovereigns  still  remained,  and  another  Hay  longed  to 
spend  them  on  things  more  sensible  than  railway  tickets 
and  steamer  accommodation. 

The  chase  was  long,  for  when  a  man  is  journeying 
literally  for  the  dear  life,  he  does  not  tarry  upon  the 
road.  Round  the  world  Hay  swept  anew,  and  overtook 
the  wearied  Doctor,  who  had  been  sent  out  to  look 
for  him,  in  Madras.  It  was  there  that  he  found 
the  reward  of  his  toil  and  the  assurance  of  a  blessed 
immortality.  In  half  an  hour  the  Doctor,  watching 
always  the  parched  lips,  the  shaking  hands,  and  the 
eye  that  turned  eternally  to  the  east,  won  John  Hay 
to  rest  in  a  little  house  close  to  the  Madras  surf. 
All  that  Hay  need  do  was  to  hang  by  ropes  from  the 
roof  of  the  room  and  let  the  round  earth  swing  free 
beneath  him.  This  was  better  than  steamer  or  train,  for 
he  gained  a  day  in  a  day,  and  was  thus  the  equal  of  the 
undying  sun.  The  other  Hay  would  pay  his  expenses 
throughout  eternity. 

It  is  true  that  we  cannot  yet  take  tickets  from  Calais 
to  Hongkong,  though  that  will  come  about  in  fifteen 
years ;  but  men  say  that  if  you  wander  along  the 


14  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

southern  coast  of  India  you  shall  find  in  a  neatly 
whitewashed  little  bungalow,  sitting  in  a  chair  swung 
from  the  roof,  over  a  sheet  of  thin  steel  which  he 
knows  so  well  destroys  the  attraction  of  the  earth, 
an  old  and  worn  man  who  for  ever  faces  the  rising 
sun,  a  stop-watch  in  his  hand,  racing  against  eternity. 
He  cannot  drink,  he  does  not  smoke,  and  his  living 
expenses  amount  to  perhaps  twenty-five  rupees  a  month, 
but  he  is  John  Hay,  the  Immortal.  Without,  he  hears 
the  thunder  of  the  wheeling  world  with  which  he  is 
careful  to  explain  he  has  no  connection  whatever;  but  if 
you  say  that  it  is  only  the  noise  of  the  surf,  he  will  cry 
bitterly,  for  the  shadow  on  his  brain  is  passing  away 
as  the  brain  ceases  to  work,  and  he  doubts  sometimes 
whether  the  doctor  spoke  the  truth. 

'  Why  does    not   the    sun    always  remain    over    my 
head  ? '  asks  John  Hay. 


THBOUGH  THE  FIRE1 

THE  Policeman  rode  through  the  Himalayan  forest,  under 
the  moss-draped  oaks,  and  his  orderly  trotted  after  him. 

'  It's  an  ugly  business,  Bhere  Singh/  said  the  Police- 
man. '  Where  are  they  ?  ' 

'  It  is  a  very  ugly  business/  said  Bhere  Singh ;  '  and  as 
for  them,  they  are,  doubtless,  now  frying  in  a  hotter  fire 
than  was  ever  made  of  spruce-branches.' 

'  Let  us  hope  not/  said  the  Policeman,  '  for,  allowing  for 
the  difference  between  race  and  race,  it's  the  story  of 
Francesca  da  Rimini,  Bhere  Singh.' 

Bhere  Singh  knew  nothing  about  Francesca  da  Rimini, 
so  he  held  his  peace  until  they  came  to  the  charcoal- 
burners'  clearing  where  the  dying  flames  said  'whit,  whit, 
whit'  as  they  fluttered  and  whispered  over  the  white 
ashes.  It  must  have  been  a  great  fire  when  at  full 
height.  Men  had  seen  it  at  Donga  Pa  across  the  valley 
winking  and  blazing  through  the  night,  and  said  that  the 
charcoal-burners  of  Kodru  were  getting  drunk.  But  it 
was  only  Suket  Singh,  Sepoy  of  the  102d  Punjab  Native 
Infantry,  and  Athira,  a  woman,  burning — burning — 
burning. 

This  was  how  things  befell;  and  the  Policeman's  Diary 
will  bear  me  out. 

Athira  was  the  wife  of  Madu,  who  was  a  charcoal- 
burner,  one-eyed  and  of  a  malignant  disposition.  A  week 

*  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


16  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

after  their  marriage,  he  beat  Athira  with  a  heavy  stick. 
A  month  later,  Suket  Singh,  Sepoy,  came  that  way  to  the 
cool  hills  on  leave  from  his  regiment,  and  electrified  the 
villagers  of  Kodru  with  tales  of  service  and  glory  under 
the  Government,  and  the  honour  in  which  he,  Suket  Singh, 
was  held  by  the  Colonel  Sahib  Bahadur.  And  Desde- 
mona  listened  to  Othello  as  Desdemonas  have  done  all 
the  world  over,  and,  as  she  listened,  she  loved. 

'I've  a  wife  of  my  own,'  said  Suket  Singh,  'though 
that  is  no  mutter  when  you  come  to  think  of  it.  I  am 
also  due  to  return  to  my  regiment  after  a  time,  and  I 
cannot  be  a  deserter — I  who  intend  to  be  Havildar.' 
There  is  no  Himalayan  version  of  'I  could  not  love  thee, 
dear,  as  much,  Loved  I  not  Honour  more;'  but  Suket 
Singh  came  near  to  making  one. 

'  Never  mind,'  said  Athira,  '  stay  with  me,  and,  if 
Madu  tries  to  beat  me,  you  beat  him.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Suket  Singh;  and  he  beat  Madu 
severely,  to  the  delight  of  all  the  charcoal-burners  of 
Kodru. 

'That  is  enough,'  said  Suket  Singh,  as  he  rolled  Madu 
down  the  hillside.  'Now  we  shall  have  peace.'  But 
Madu  crawled  up  the  grass  slope  again,  and  hovered 
round  his  hut  with  angry  eyes. 

'He'll  kill  me  dead,'  said  Athira  to  Suket  Singh. 
'  You  must  take  me  away.' 

'There'll  be  a  trouble  in  the  Lines.  My  wife  will  pull 
out  my  beard;  but  never  mind,'  said  Suket  Singh,  '  I  will 
take  you.' 

There  was  loud  trouble  in  the  Lines,  and  Suket 
Singh's  beard  was  pulled,  and  Suket  Singh's  wife  went  to 
live  with  her  mother  and  took  away  the  children.  '  That's 
all  right,'  said  Athira;  and  Suket  Singh  said,  'Yes,  that's 
all  right.' 


THROUGH  THE  FIRE  17 

So  there  was  only  Madu  left  in  the  hut  that  looks 
across  the  valley  to  Donga  Pa;  and,  since  the  beginning 
of  time,  no  one  has  had  any  sympathy  for  husbands  so 
unfortunate  as  Madu. 

He  went  to  Juseen  Daze,  the  wizard-man  who  keeps 
the  Talking  Monkey's  Head. 

'  Get  me  back  my  wife,'  said  Madu. 

'  I  can't,'  said  Juseen  Daze,  '  until  you  have  made  the 
Sutlej  in  the  valley  run  up  the  Donga  Pa.' 

'No  riddles,'  said  Madu,  and  he  shook  his  hatchet 
above  Juseen  Daze's  white  head. 

'  Give  all  your  money  to  the  headmen  of  the  village/ 
said  Juseen  Daze;  'and  they  will  hold  a  communal 
Council,  and  the  Council  will  send  a  message  that  your 
wife  must  come  back/ 

So  Madu  gave  up  all  his  worldly  wealth,  amounting 
to  twenty-seven  rupees,  eight  annas,  three  pice,  and  a 
silver  chain,  to  the  Council  of  Kodru.  And  it  fell  as 
Juseen  Daze  foretold. 

They  sent  Athira's  brother  down  into  Suket  Singh's 
regiment  to  call  Athira  home.  Suket  Singh  kicked 
him  once  round  the  Lines,  and  then  handed  him  over  to 
the  Havildar,  who  beat  him  with  a  belt. 

'  Come  back/  yelled  Athira's  brother. 

'  Where  to  ?  '  said  Athira. 

<  To  Madu/  said  he. 

'  Never/  said  she. 

'  Then  Juseen  Daze  will  send  a  curse,  and  you  will 
wither  away  like  a  barked  tree  in  the  springtime/  said 
Athira's  brother.  Athira  slept  over  these  things. 

Next  morning  she  hud  rheumatism.  'I  am  beginning 
to  wither  away  like  a  barked  tree  in  the  springtime/  she 
said.  '  That  is  the  curse  of  Juseen  Daze.' 

And  she   really   began   to    wither    away   because  her 


18  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

heart  was  dried  up  with  fear,  and  those  who  believe  in 
curses  die  from  curses.  Suket  Singh,  too,  was  afraid 
because  he  loved  Athira  better  than  his  very  life.  Two 
months  passed,  and  Athira's  brother  stood  outside  the 
regimental  Lines  again  and  yelped,  'Aha!  You  are 
withering  away.  Come  back.* 

'I  will  come  back/  said  Athira. 

'  Say  rather  that  we  will  come  back/  said  Suket  Singh. 

*  Ai;  but  when  ?'  said  Athira's  brother. 

'Upon  a  day  very  early  in  the  morning,'  said  Suket 
Singh;  and  he  tramped  off  to  apply  to  the  Colonel  Sahib 
Bahadur  for  one  week's  leave. 

'I  am  withering  away  like  a  barked  tree  in  the  spring/ 
moaned  Athira. 

'You  will  be  better  soon/  said  Suket  Singh;  and  he 
told  her  what  was  in  his  heart,  and  the  two  laughed 
together  softly,  for  they  loved  each  other.  But  Athira 
grew  better  from  that  hour. 

They  went  away  together,  travelling  third-class  by 
train  as  the  regulations  provided,  and  then  in  a  cart  to 
the  low  hills,  and  on  foot  to  the  high  ones.  Athira 
sniffed  the  scent  of  the  pines  of  her  own  hills,  the  wet 
Himalayan  hills.  '  It  is  good  to  be  alive/  said  Athira. 

'Hah  !'  said  Suket  Singh.  'Where  is  the  Kodru  road 
and  where  is  the  Forest  Ranger's  house  ? '  .  .  . 

'It  cost  forty  rupees  twelve  years  ago/  said  the  Forest 
Ranger,  handing  the  gun. 

'Here  are  twenty/  said  Suket  Singh,  'and  you  must 
give  me  the  best  bullets.' 

'It  is  very  good  to  be  alive/  said  Athira  wistfully, 
sniffing  the  scent  of  the  pine-mould;  and  they  waited 
till  the  night  had  fallen  upon  Kodru  and  the  Donga  Pa. 
Madu  had  stacked  the  dry  wood  for  the  next  day's 
charcoal-burning  on  the  spur  above  his  house.  'It  is 


THROUGH   THE   FIRE  19 

courteous  in  Madu  to  save  us  this  trouble,'  said  Suket 
Singh  as  he  stumbled  on  the  pile,  which  was  twelve  loot 
square  and  four  high.  '  We  must  wait  till  the  moon 
rises.' 

When  the  moon  rose,  Athira  knelt  upon  the  pile.  'If 
it  were  only  a  Government  Snider,'  said  Suket  Singh 
ruefully,  squinting  down  the  wire-bound  barrel  of  the 
Forest  Ranger's  gun. 

'Be  quick,' said  Athira;  and  Suket  Singh  was  quick; 
but  Athira  was  quick  no  longer.  Then  he  lit  the  pile 
at  the  four  corners  and  climbed  on  to  it,  re-loading  the 
gun. 

The  little  flames  began  to  peer  up  between  the 
big  logs  atop  of  the  brushwood.  '  The  Government  should 
teach  us  to  pull  the  triggers  with  our  toes/  said  Suket 
Singh  grimly  to  the  moon.  That  was  the  last  public 
observation  of  Sepoy  Suket  Singh. 

Upon  a  day,  early  in  the  morning,  Madu  came  to  the 
pyre  and  shrieked  very  grievously,  and  ran  away  to  catch 
the  Policeman  who  was  on  tour  in  the  district. 

'The  base-born  has  ruined  four  rupees'  worth  of 
charcoal  wood,'  Madu  gasped.  'He  has  also  killed  my 
wife,  and  he  has  left  a  letter  which  I  cannot  read,  tied  to 
a  pine  bough.' 

In  the  stiff,  formal  hand  taught  in  the  regimental 
school,  Sepoy  Suket  Singh  had  written— 

'  Let  us  be  burned  together,  if  anything  remain  over, 
for  we  have  made  the  necessary  prayers.  We  have  also 
cursed  Madu,  and  Malak  the  brother  of  Athira — both 
evil  men.  Send  my  service  to  the  Colonel  Sahib 
Bahadur.' 

The  Policeman  looked  long  and  curiously  at  the 
marriage  bed  of  red  and  white  ashes  on  which  lay,  dull 


20  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

black,  the  barrel  of  the  Hunger's  gun.  He  drove  his 
spurred  heel  absently  into  a  half-charred  log,  and  the 
chattering  sparks  flew  upwards.  'Most  extraordinary 
people,'  said  the  Policeman. 

'Whe-w,  whew,  ouiou,'  said  the  little  flames. 

The  Policeman  entered  the  dry  bones  of  the  case,  for 
the  Punjab  Government  does  not  approve  of  romancing, 
in  his  Diary. 

'But  who  will  pay  me  those  four  rupees  ?  '  said  Madu. 


THE  FINANCES   OF   THE   GODS1 

THE  evening  meal  was  ended  in  Dhunni  Bhagat's  Chubara 
and  the  old  priests  were  smoking  or  counting  their  beads. 
A  little  naked  child  pattered  in,  with  its  mouth  wide 
open,  a  handful  of  marigold  flowers  in  one  hand,  and  a 
lump  of  conserved  tobacco  in  the  other.  It  tried  to  kneel 
and  make  obeisance  to  Gobind,  but  it  was  so  fat  that  it 
fell  forward  on  its  shaven  head,  and  rolled  on  its  side, 
kicking  and  gasping,  while  the  marigolds  tumbled  one 
way  and  the  tobacco  the  other.  Gobind  laughed,  set  it 
up  again,  and  blessed  the  marigold  flowers  as  he  received 
the  tobacco. 

'From  my  father/  said  the  child.  'He  has  the  fever, 
and  cannot  come.  Wilt  thou  pray  for  him,  father?' 

'  Surely,  littlest;  but  the  smoke  is  on  the  ground,  and 
the  night-chill  is  in  the  air,  and  it  is  not  good  to  go 
abroad  naked  in  the  autumn.' 

'I  have  no  clothes,'  said  the  child,  'and  all  to-day  I 
have  been  carrying  cow-dung  cakes  to  the  bazar.  It  was 
very  hot,  and  I  am  very  tired.'  It  shivered  a  little,  for 
the  twilight  was  cool. 

Gobind  lifted  an  arm  under  his  vast  tattered  quilt  of 
many  colours,  and  made  an  inviting  little  nest  by  his  side. 
The  child  crept  in,  and  Gobind  filled  his  brass-studded 
leather  waterpipe  with  the  new  tobacco.  When  I  came 
to  the  Chubara  the  shaven  head  with  the  tuft  atop,  and 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

the  beady  black  eyes  looked  out  of  the  folds  of  the  quilt 
as  a  squirrel  looks  out  from  his  nest,  and  Gobind  was 
smiling  while  the  child  played  with  his  beard. 

I  would  have  said  something  friendly,  but  remembered 
in  time  that  if  the  child  fell  ill  afterwards  I  should  be 
credited  with  the  Evil  Eye,  and  that  is  a  horrible 
possession. 

'Sit  thou  still,  Thumbling,'  I  said  as  it  made  to  get  up 
and  run  away.  '  Where  is  thy  slate,  and  why  has  the 
teacher  let  such  an  evil  character  loose  on  the  streets 
when  there  are  no  police  to  protect  us  weaklings  ?  In 
which  ward  dost  thou  try  to  break  thy  neck  with  flying 
kites  from  the  house-tops?' 

'Nay,  Sahib,  nay/  said  the  child,  burrowing  its  face 
into  Gobind's  beard,  and  twisting  uneasily.  'There  was 
a  holiday  to-day  among  the  schools,  and  I  do  not  always 
fly  kites.  I  play  ker-li-kit  like  the  rest.' 

Cricket  is  the  national  game  among  the  schoolboys  of 
the  Punjab,  from  the  naked  hedge-school  children,  who 
use  an  old  kerosene-tin  for  wicket,  to  the  13. A. 's  of  the 
University,  who  compete  for  the  Championship  belt. 

'Thou  play  kerlikit!  Thou  art  half  the  height  of  the 
bat!'  I  said. 

The  child  nodded  resolutely.  *  Yea,  I  do  play.  Perlay- 
ball.  Ow-at  !  Run,  ran,  ran  !  I  know  it  all.' 

'  But  thou  must  not  forget  with  all  this  to  pray  to  the 
Gods  according  to  custom,'  said  Gobind,  who  did  not 
altogether  approve  of  cricket  and  western  innovations. 

'  I  do  not  forget,'  said  the  child  in  a  hushed  voice. 

*  Also  to  give  reverence  to  thy  teacher,  and  '—Gobind's 
voice  softened — 'to  abstain  from  pulling  holy  men  by  the 
beard,  little  badling.  Eh,  eh,  eh  ?' 

The  child's  face  was  altogether  hidden  in  the  great 
white  beard,  and  it  began  to  whimper  till  Gobind  soothed 


THE  FINANCES  OF  THE  GODS  23 

it  as  children  are  soothed  all  the  world  over,  with  the 
promise  of  a  story. 

*  I  did  not  think  to  frighten  thee,  senseless  little  one. 
Look  up!  Am  I  angry?  Are,  are,  are!  Shall  I  weep 
too,  and  of  our  tears  make  a  great  pond  and  drown  ns 
both,  and  then  thy  father  will  never  get  well,  lacking  thee 
to  pull  his  beard  ?  Peace,  peace,  and  I  will  tell  thee  of 
the  Gods.  Thou  hast  heard  many  tales  ? ' 

'  Very  many,  father.' 

'Now,  this  is  a  new  one  which  thou  hast  not  heard. 
Long  and  long  ago  when  the  Gods  walked  with  men  as 
they  do  to-day,  but  that  we  have  not  faith  to  see,  Shiv, 
the  greatest  of  Gods,  and  Parbati  his  wife,  were  walking 
in  the  garden  of  a  temple.' 

'  Which  temple  ?  That  in  the  Nandgaou  ward  ? '  said 
the  child. 

'  Nay,  very  far  away.  Maybe  at  Trimbak  or  Hurdwar, 
whither  thou  must  make  pilgrimage  when  thou  art  a 
man.  Now,  there  was  sitting  in  the  garden  under  the 
jujube  trees,  a  mendicant  that  had  worshipped  Shiv  for 
forty  years,  and  he  lived  on  the  offerings  of  the  pious,  and 
meditated  holiness  night  and  day.' 

'Oh  father,  was  it  thou?'  said  the  child,  looking  up 
with  large  eyes. 

'Nay,  I  have  said  it  was  long  ago,  and,  moreover,  this 
mendicant  was  married.' 

'  Did  they  put  him  on  a  horse  with  flowers  on  his  head, 
and  forbid  him  to  go  to  sleep  all  night  long?  Thus  they 
did  to  me  when  they  made  my  wedding,'  said  the  child, 
who  had  been  married  a  few  months  before. 

'And  what  didst  thou  do?'  said  I. 

'  I  wept,  and  they  called  me  evil  names,  and  then  I 
smote  her,  and  we  wept  together.' 

'Thus  did  not  the  mendicant,'  said  Gobind;  'for  lie 


24  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

was  a  holy  man,  and  very  poor.  Parbati  perceived  him 
sitting  naked  by  the  temple  steps  where  all  went  up  and 
down,  and  she  said  to  Shiv,  "  What  shall  men  think  of  the 
Gods  when  the  Gods  thus  scorn  their  worshippers  ?  For 
forty  years  yonder  man  has  prayed  to  us,  and  yet  there 
be  only  a  few  grains  of  rice  and  some  broken  cowries 
before  him  after  all.  Men's  hearts  will  be  hardened  by 
this  thing."  And  Shiv  said,  "  It  shall  be  looked  to,"  and 
so  he  called  to  the  temple  which  was  the  temple  of  his 
son,  Ganesh  of  the  elephant  head,  saying,  "  Son,  there  is 
a  mendicant  without  who  is  very  poor.  What  wilt  thou 
do  for  him?"  Then  that  great  elephant-headed  One 
awoke  in  the  dark  and  answered,  "  In  three  days,  if  it  be 
thy  will,  he  shall  have  oae  lakh  of  rupees.  Then  Shiv 
and  Parbati  went  away. 

'But  there  was  a  money-lender  in  the  garden  hidden 
among  the  marigolds' — the  child  looked  at  the  ball  of 
crumpled  blossoms  in  its  hands — 'ay,  among  the  yellow 
marigolds,  and  he  heard  the  Gods  talking.  He  was  a 
covetous  man,  and  of  a  black  heart,  and  he  desired  that 
lakh  of  rupees  for  himself.  So  he  went  to  the  mendicant 
and  said,  "  0  brother,  how  much  do  the  pious  give  thee 
daily?"  The  mendicant  said,  "  I  cannot  tell.  Sometimes 
a  little  rice,  sometimes  a  little  pulse,  and  a  few  cowries 
and,  it  has  been,  pickled  mangoes,  and  dried  fish." 

'That  is  good/  said  the  child,  smacking  its  lips. 

'Then  said  the  money-lender,  "  Because  I  have  long 
watched  thee,  and  learned  to  love  thee  and  thy  patience, 
I  will  give  thee  now  five  rupees  for  all  thy  earnings  of 
the  three  days  to  come.  There  is  only  a  bond  to  sign  on 
the  matter."  But  the  mendicant  said,  "Thou  art  mad. 
In  two  months  I  do  not  receive  the  worth  of  five  rupees," 
and  he  told  the  thing  to  his  wife  that  evening.  She,  being 
a  woman,  said,  "  When  did  money-lender  ever  make  a  bad 


THE  FINANCES  OP  THE  GODS  25 

bargain?  The  wolf  runs  through  the  corn  for  the  sake  of 
the  fat  deer.  Our  fate  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Gods. 
Pledge  it  not  even  for  three  days." 

'So  the  mendicant  returned  to  the  money-lender,  and 
would  not  sell.  Then  that  wicked  man  sat  all  day  before 
him  offering  more  and  more  for  those  three  days'  earnings. 
First,  ten,  fifty,  and  a  hundred  rupees;  and  then,  for  he 
did  not  know  when  the  Gods  would  pour  down  their 
gifts,  rupees  by  the  thousand,  till  he  had  offered  half  a 
lakh  of  rupees.  Upon  this  sum  the  mendicant's  wife 
shifted  her  counsel,  and  the  mendicant  signed  the  bond, 
and  the  money  was  paid  in  silver;  great  white  bullocks 
bringing  it  by  the  cartload.  But  saving  only  all  that 
money,  the  mendicant  received  nothing  from  the  Gods  at 
all,  and  the  heart  of  the  money-lender  was  uneasy  on 
account  of  expectation.  Therefore  at  noon  of  the  third 
day  the  money-lender  went  into  the  temple  to  spy  upon 
the  councils  of  the  Gods,  and  to  learn  in  what  manner 
that  gift  might  arrive.  Even  as  he  was  making  his 
prayers,  a  crack  between  the  stones  of  the  floor  gaped,  and, 
closing,  caught  him  by  the  heel.  Then  he  heard  the 
Gods  walking  in  the  temple  in  the  darkness  of  the  columns, 
and  Shiv  called  to  his  son  Ganesh,  saying,  "Son,  what  hast 
thou  done  in  regard  to  the  lakh  of  rupees  for  the  mendi- 
cant?" And  Ganesh  woke,  for  the  money-lender  heard 
the  dry  rustle  of  his  trunk  uncoiling,  and  he  answered, 
"  Father,  one  half  of  the  money  has  been  paid,  and  the 
debtor  for  the  other  half  I  hold  here  fast  by  the  heel."3 

The  child  bubbled  with  laughter.  'And  the  money- 
lender paid  the  mendicant?'  it  said. 

'Surely,  for  he  whom  the  Gods  hold  by  the  heel  must 
pay  to  the  uttermost.  The  money  was  paid  at  evening, 
all  silver,  in  great  carts,  and  thus  Ganesh  did  his  work.' 


26  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'Nathu!  Ohe  Nathu!' 

A  woman  was  calling  in  the  dusk  by  the  door  of  the 
courtyard. 

The  child  began  to  wriggle.  'That  is  my  mother/ 
it  said. 

'Go  then,  littlest/  answered  Gobind ;  'but  stay  a 
moment.' 

He  ripped  a  generous  yard  from  his  patchwork-quilt, 
put  it  over  the  child's  shoulders,  and  the  child  ran 
aw»y. 


THE  AMIK'S  HOMILY1 

His  Royal  Highness  Abdur  Rahman,  Amir  of  Afghani- 
stan, G.C.S.I.,  and  trusted  ally  of  Her  Imperial  Majesty 
the  Queen  of  England  and  Empress  of  India,  is  a  gentle- 
man for  whom  all  right-thinking  people  should  have  a 
profound  regard.  Like  most  other  rulers,  he  governs  not 
as  he  would  but  as  he  can,  and  the  mantle  of  his  autho- 
rity covers  the  most  turbulent  race  under  the  stars.  To 
the  Afghan  neither  life,  property,  law,  nor  kingship  are 
sacred  when  his  own  lusts  prompt  him  to  rebel.  He  is 
a  thief  by  instinct,  a  murderer  by  heredity  and  training, 
and  frankly  and  bestially  immoral  by  all  three.  None 
the  less  he  has  his  own  crooked  notions  of  honour,  and 
his  character  is  fascinating  to  study.  On  occasion  he 
will  fight  without  reason  given  till  he  is  hacked  in  pieces; 
on  other  occasions  he  will  refuse  to  show  fight  till  he  is 
driven  into  a  corner.  Herein  he  is  as  unaccountable  as 
the  gray  wolf,  who  is  his  blood-brother. 

And  these  men  His  Highness  rules  by  the  only 
weapon  that  they  understand — the  fear  of  death,  which 
among  some  Orientals  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  Some 
say  that  the  Amir's  authority  reaches  no  farther  than  a 
rifle  bullet  can  range;  but  as  none  are  quite  certain  when 
their  king  may  be  in  their  midst,  and  as  he  alone  holds 
every  one  of  the  threads  of  Government,  his  respect  is 
increased  among  men.  Gholam  Hyder,  the  Communder- 

i  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMIU.AN  &  Co. 


LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

in-chief  of  the  Afghan  army,  is  feared  reasonably,  for  he 
can  impale;  all  Kabul  city  feurs  the  Governor  of  Kabul, 
who  lias  power  of  life  and  death  through  all  the  wards; 
but  the  Amir  of  Afghanistan,  though  outlying  tribes  pre- 
tend otherwise  when  his  back  is  turned,  is  dreaded  beyond 
chief  and  governor  together.  His  word  is  red  law;  by 
the  gust  of  his  passion  falls  the  leaf  of  man's  life,  and  his 
favour  is  terrible.  He  has  suffered  many  things,  and 
been  a  hunted  fugitive  before  he  came  to  the  throne,  and 
he  understands  all  the  classes  of  his  people.  By  the 
custom  of  the  East  any  man  or  woman  having  a  com- 
plaint to  make,  or  an  enemy  against  whom  to  be  avenged, 
has  the  right  of  speaking  face  to  face  with  the  king  at 
the  daily  public  audience.  This  is  personal  government, 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Harun  al  Raschid  of  blessed 
memory,  whose  times  exist  still  and  will  exist  long  after 
the  English  have  passed  away. 

The  privilege  of  open  speech  is  of  course  exercised  at 
certain  personal  risk.  The  king  may  be  pleased,  and 
raise  the  speaker  to  honour  for  that  very  bluntness  of 
speech  which  three  minutes  later  brings  a  too  imitative 
petitioner  to  the  edge  of  the  ever  ready  blade.  And  the 
people  love  to  have  it  so,  for  it  is  their  right. 

It  happened  upon  a  day  in  Kabul  that  the  Amir 
chose  to  do  his  day's  work  in  the  Baber  Gardens,  which 
lie  a  short  distance  from  the  city  of  Kabul.  A  light 
table  stood  before  him,  and  round  the  table  in  the  open 
air  were  grouped  generals  and  finance  ministers  according 
to  their  degree.  The  Court  and  the  long  tail  of  feudal 
chiefs — men  of  blood,  fed  and  cowed  by  blood — stood  in 
an  irregular  semicircle  round  the  table,  and  the  wind 
from  the  Kabul  orchards  blew  among  them.  All  day 
long  sweating  couriers  dashed  in  with  letters  from  the 
outlying  districts  with  rnmonrs  of  rebellion,  intrigue, 


fc          THE  AMIR'S  HOMILY  29 

famine,  failure  of  payments,  or  announcements  of  treasure 
on  the  road;  and  all  day  long  the  Amir  would  read  the 
dockets,  and  pass  such  of  these  as  were  less  private  to 
the  officials  whom  they  directly  concerned,  or  call  up  a 
waiting  chief  for  a  word  of  explanation.  It  is  well  to 
speak  clearly  to  the  ruler  of  Afghanistan.  Then  the  grim 
head,  under  the  black  astrachan  cap  with  the  diamond 
star  in  front,  would  nod  gravely,  and  that  chief  would 
return  to  his  fellows.  Once  that  afternoon  a  woman  clam- 
oured for  divorce  against  her  husband,  who  was  bald,  and 
the  Amir,  hearing  both  sides  of  the  case,  bade  her  pour 
curds  over  the  bare  scalp,  and  lick  them  off,  that  the  hair 
might  grow  again,  and  she  be  contented.  Here  the 
Court  laughed,  and  the  woman  withdrew,  cursing  her  king 
under  her  breath. 

But  when  twilight  was  falling,  and  the  order  of  the 
Court  was  a  little  relaxed,  there  came  before  the  king,  in 
custody,  a  trembling  haggard  wretch,  sore  with  much 
buffeting,  but  of  stout  enough  build,  who  had  stolen  three 
rupees — of  such  small  matters  does  His  Highness  take 
cognisance. 

'Why  did  you  steal?'  said  he;  and  when  the  king 
asks  questions  they  do  themselves  service  who  answer 
directly. 

'  I  was  poor,  and  no  one  gave.  Hungry,  and  there 
was  no  food/ 

'  Why  did  you  not  work  ?  ' 

'  I  could  find  no  work,  Protector  of  the  Poor,  and  I 
was  starving.' 

'You  lie.  You  stole  for  drink,  for  lust,  for  idleness, 
for  anything  but  hunger,  since  any  man  who  will  may 
find  work  and  daily  bread.' 

The  prisoner  dropped  his  eyes.  He  had  attended  the 
Court  before,  and  he  knew  the  ring  of  the  death-tone. 


30  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

*  Any  man  may  get  work.  Who  knows  this  so  well 
as  I  do?  for  I  too  have  been  hungered — not  like  you, 
bastard  scum,  but  as  any  honest  man  may  be,  by  the 
turn  of  Fate  and  the  will  of  God.' 

( J rowing  warm,  the  Amir  turned  to  his  nobles  all  arow 
and  thrust  the  hilt  of  his  sabre  aside  with  his  elbow. 

'  You  have  heard  this  Son  of  Lies  ?  Hear  me  tell  a 
true  tale.  1  also  was  once  starved,  and  tightened  my 
belt  on  the  sharp  belly-pinch.  Nor  was  I  alone,  for 
with  me  was  another,  who  did  not  fail  me  in  my  evil 
days,  when  I  was  hunted,  before  ever  I  came  to  this 
throne.  And  wandering  like  a  houseless  dog  by  Kanda- 
har, my  money  melted,  melted,  melted  till —  He 
flung  out  a  bare  palm  before  the  audience.  '  And  day 
upon  day,  faint  and  sick,  I  went  back  to  that  one  who 
waited,  and  God  knows  how  we  lived,  till  on  a  day  I  took 
our  best  lihaf—  silk  it  was,  fine  work  of  Iran,  such  as  no 
needle  now  works,  warm,  and  a  coverlet  for  two,  and  all 
that  we  had.  I  brought  it  to  a  money-lender  in  a  by- 
lane,  and  I  asked  for  three  rupees  upon  it.  He  said  to 
me,  who  am  now  the  King,  "  You  are  a  thief.  This  is 
worth  three  hundred."  "I  am  no  thief,"  I  answered, 
"  but  a  prince  of  good  blood,  and  I  am  hungry." — "Prince 
of  wandering  beggars,"  said  that  money-lender,  "  I  have 
no  money  with  me,  but  go  to  my  house  with  my  clerk 
and  he  will  give  you  two  rupees  eight  annas,  for  that  is 
all  I  will  lend."  So  I  went  with  the  clerk  to  the  house, 
and  we  talked  on  the  way,  and  he  gave  me  the  money. 
We  lived  on  it  till  it  was  spent,  and  we  fared  hard.  And 
then  that  clerk  said,  being  a  young  man  of  a  good  heart, 
"Surely  the  money-lender  will  lend  yet  more  on  that 
lihaf,"  and  he  offered  me  two  rupees.  These  I  refused, 
saying,  "Nay;  but  get  me  some  work."  And  he  got 
me  work,  and  I,  even  I,  Abdur  llahman,  Amir  of 


THE  AMIR'S  HOMILY  31 

Afghanistan,  wrought  day  by  day  as  a  coolie,  bearing 
burdens,  and  labouring  of  my  hands,  receiving  four  annas 
wage  a  day  for  my  sweat  and  backache.  But  he,  this 
bastard  son  of  naught,  must  steal !  For  a  year  and  four 
months  I  worked,  and  none  dare  say  that  I  lie,  for  I  have 
a  witness,  even  that  clerk  who  is  now  my  friend.' 

Then  there  rose  in  his  place  among  the  Sirdars  and 
the  nobles  one  clad  in  silk,  who  folded  his  hands  and 
said,  '  This  is  the  truth  of  God,  for  I,  who,  by  the  favour 
of  God  and  the  Amir,  am  such  as  you  know,  was  once 
clerk  to  that  money-lender.' 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  Amir  cried  hoarsely  to 
the  prisoner,  throwing  scorn  upon  him,  till  he  ended  with 
the  dread  '  Dar  arid,'  which  clinches  justice. 

So  they  led  the  thief  away,  and  the  whole  of  him 
was  seen  no  more  together;  and  the  Court  rustled  out  of 
its  silence,  whispering,  '  Before  God  and  the  Prophet,  but 
this  is  a  man ! ' 


MY  newly  purchased  house  furniture  was,  at  the  least, 
insecure;  the  legs  parted  from  the  chairs,  and  the  tops 
from  the  tables,  on  the  slightest  provocation.  But  such 
as  it  was,  it  was  to  be  paid  for,  and  Ephraim,  agent  and 
collector  for  the  local  auctioneer,  waited  in  the  verandah 
with  the  receipt.  He  was  announced  by  the  Mahomedan 
servant  as  *  Ephraim,  Yahudi ' — Ephraim  the  Jew.  He 
who  believes  in  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  should  hear  my 
Elahi  Bukhsh  grinding  the  second  word  through  his 
white  teeth  with  all  the  scorn  he  dare  show  before  his 
master.  Ephraim  was,  personally,  meek  in  manner — so 
meek  indeed  that  one  could  not  understand  how  he  had 
fallen  into  the  profession  of  bill-collecting.  He  resembled 
an  over-fed  sheep,  and  his  voice  suited  his  figure.  There 
was  a  fixed,  unvarying  mask  of  childish  wonder  upon  his 
face.  If  you  paid  him,  he  was  as  one  marvelling  at  your 
wealth;  if  you  sent  him  away,  he  seemed  puzzled  at  your 
hard-heartedness.  Never  was  Jew  more  unlike  his  dread 
breed. 

Ephraim  wore  list  slippers  and  coats  of  duster-cloth, 
so  preposterously  patterned  that  the  most  brazen  of 
British  subalterns  would  have  shied  from  them  in  fear. 
Very  slow  and  deliberate  was  his  speech,  and  carefully 
guarded  to  give  offence  to  no  one.  After  many  weeks, 
Ephraim  was  induced  to  speak  to  me  of  his  friends. 

»  Copyright,  1891.  l>y  MACMILUAN  &  Co. 


JEWS  IN  SHU  SHAN 

'  There  be  eight  of  us  in  Shushan,  and  we  are  waiting 
till  there  are  ten.  Then  we  shall  apply  for  a  synagogue, 
and  get  leave  from  Calcutta.  To-day  we  have  no  syna- 
gogue; and  I,  only  I,  am  Priest  and  Butcher  to  our  people. 
I  am  of  the  tribe  of  Judah — I  think,  but  I  am  not  sure. 
My  father  was  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  and  we  wish  much 
to  get  our  synagogue.  I  shall  be  a  priest  of  that  syna- 
gogue.' 

Shushan  is  a  big  city  in  the  North  of  India,  counting 
its  dwellers  by  the  ten  thousand;  and  these  eight  of 
the  Chosen  People  were  shut  up  in  its  midst,  waiting  till 
time  or  chance  sent  them  their  full  congregation. 

Miriam  the  wife  of  Ephraim,  two  little  children,  an 
orphan  boy  of  their  people,  Ephrainvs  uncle  Jacknu'l 
Israel,  a  white-haired  old  man,  his  wife  Hester,  a  Jew 
from  Cutch,  one  Hyem  Benjamin,  and  Ephraim,  Priest 
and  Butcher,  made  up  the  list  of  the  Jews  in  Shushan. 
They  lived  in  one  house,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  great 
city,  amid  heaps  of  saltpetre,  rotten  bricks,  herds  of  kine, 
and  a  fixed  pillar  of  dust  caused  by  the  incessant  passing 
of  the  beasts  to  the  river  to  drink.  In  the  evening  the 
children  of  the  City  came  to  the  waste  place  to  fly  their 
kites,  and  Ephraim's  sons  held  aloof,  watching  the  sport 
from  the  roof,  but  never  descending  to  take  part  in  them. 
At  the  back  of  the  house  stood  a  small  brick  enclosure,  in 
which  Ephraim  prepared  the  daily  meat  for  his  people 
after  the  custom  of  the  Jews.  Once  the  rude  door  of  the 
square  was  suddenly  smashed  open  by  a  struggle  from 
inside,  and  showed  the  meek  bill-collector  at  his  work, 
nostrils  dilated,  lips  drawn  back  over  his  teeth,  and  his 
hands  upon  a  half-maddened  sheep.  lie  was  attired  in 
strange  raiment,  having  no  relation  whatever  to  duster 
coats  or  list  slippers,  and  a  knife  was  in  his  mouth. 
As  he  struggled  with  the  animal  between  the  walls,  the 


34  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

breath  came  from  him  in  thick  sobs,  and  the  nature  of 
the  man  seemed  changed.  When  the  ordained  slaughter 
was  ended,  he  saw  that  the  door  was  open  and  shut  it 
hastily,  his  hand  leaving  a  red  mark  on  the  timber,  while 
his  children  from  the  neighbouring  house-top  looked  down 
awe-stricken  and  open-eyed.  A  glimpse  of  Ephraim 
busied  in  one  of  his  religious  capacities  was  no  thing 
to  be  desired  twice. 

Summer  came  upon  Shushan,  turning  the  trodden 
waste-ground  to  iron,  and  bringing  sickness  to  the  city. 

'It  will  not  touch  us,'  said  Ephraim  confidently. 
'Before  the  winter  we  shall  have  our  synagogue.  My 
brother  and  his  wife  and  children  are  coming  up  from 
Calcutta,  and  then  I  shall  be  the  priest  of  the  synagogue.' 

Jackrael  Israel,  the  old  man,  would  crawl  out  in  the 
stifling  evenings  to  sit  on  the  rubbish-heap  and  watch  the 
corpses  being  borne  down  to  the  river. 

'  It  will  not  come  near  us,'  said  Jackrael  Israel 
feebly,  '  for  we  are  the  People  of  God,  and  my  nephew 
will  be  priest  of  our  synagogue.  Let  them  die.'  He 
crept  back  to  his  house  again  and  barred  the  door  to  shut 
himself  off  from  the  world  of  the  Gentile. 

But  Miriam,  the  wife  of  Ephraim,  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  dead  as  the  biers  passed  and  said  that  she 
was  afraid.  Ephraim  comforted  her  with  hopes  of  the 
synagogue  to  be,  and  collected  bills  as  was  his  custom. 

In  one  night,  the  two  children  died  and  were  buried 
early  in  the  morning  by  Ephraim.  The  deaths  never 
appeared  in  the  City  returns.  'The  sorrow  is  my  sorrow,' 
said  Ephraim;  and  this  to  him  seemed  a  sufficient  reason 
for  setting  at  naught  the  sanitary  regulations  of  a  large, 
flourishing,  and  remarkably  well-governed  Empire. 

The  orphan  boy,  dependent  on  the  charity  of  Ephraim 
and  his  wife,  could  have  felt  no  gratitude,  and  must  have 


JEWS  IN  SHUSHAN  35 

been  a  ruffian.  He  begged  for  whatever  money  his  pro- 
tectors would  give  him,  and  with  that  fled  down-country 
for  his  life.  A  week  after  the  death  of  her  children 
Miriam  left  her  bed  at  night  and  wandered  over  the 
country  to  find  them.  She  heard  th§m  crying  behind 
every  bush,  or  drowning  in  every  pool  of  water  in  the 
fields,  and  she  begged  the  cartmen  on  the  Grand  Trunk 
Road  not  to  steal  her  little  ones  from  her.  In  the  morn- 
ing the  sun  rose  and  beat  upon  her  bare  head,  and  she 
turned  into  the  cool  wet  crops  to  lie  down  and  never 
came  back;  though  Hyem  Benjamin  and  Ephraim  sought 
her  for  two  nights. 

The  look  of  patient  wonder  on  Ephraim's  face  deepened, 
but  he  presently  found  an  explanation.  '  There  are  so 
few  of  us  here,  and  these  people  are  so  many,'  said  he, 
'  that,  it  may  be,  our  God  has  forgotten  us.' 

In  the  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  old  Jackrael 
Israel  and  Hester  grumbled  that  there  was  no  one  to 
wait  on  them,  and  that  Miriam  had  been  untrue  to  her 
race.  Ephraim  went  out  and  collected  bills,  and  in  the 
evenings  smoked  with  Hyem  Benjamin  till,  one  dawning, 
Hyem  Benjamin  died,  having  first  paid  all  his  debts  to 
Ephraim.  Jackrael  Israel  and  Hester  sat  alone  in  the 
empty  house  all  day,  and,  when  Ephraim  returned,  wept 
the  easy  tears  of  age  till  they  cried  themselves  asleep. 

A  week  later  Ephraim,  staggering  under  a  huge 
bundle  of  clothes  and  cooking-pots,  led  the  old  man  and 
woman  to  the  railway  station,  where  the  bustle  and  con- 
fusion made  them  whimper. 

'We  are  going  back  to  Calcutta/  said  Ephraim,  to 
whose  sleeve  Hester  was  clinging.  'There  are  more  of 
us  there,  and  here  my  house  is  empty.' 

He  helped  Hester  into  the  carriage  and,  turning  back, 
said  to  me,  '  I  should  have  been  priest  of  the  synagogue 


30  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

if  there  had  been  ten  of  us.  Surely  we  must  have  been 
forgotten  by  our  (Jod.' 

The  remnant  of  the  broken  colony  passed  out  of  the 
station  on  their  journey  south;  while  a  subaltern,  turning 
over  the  books  01^  the  bookstall,  was  whistling  to  himself 
'The  Ten  Little  Nigger  Boys.' 

But  the  tune  sounded  as  solemn  as  the  Dead  March. 

It  was  the  dirge  of  the  Jews  in  Slmshau. 


THE  LIMITATIONS  OF  PAMBE  SEKANG1 

IF  you  consider  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  it  was  the 
only  thing  that  he  could  do.  But  Pambe  Serang  has 
been  hanged  by  the  neck  till  he  is  dead,  and  Nurkeed 
is  dead  also. 

Three  years  ago,  when  the  Elsass-Lothringen  steamer 
Saarbruck  was  coaling  at  Aden  and  the  weather  was  very 
hot  indeed,  Nurkeed,  the  big  fat  Zanzibar  stoker  who  fed 
the  second  right  furnace  thirty  feet  down  in  the  hold,  got 
leave  to  go  ashore.  He  departed  a  *  Seedee  boy/  as  they 
call  the  stokers;  he  returned  the  full-blooded  Sultan  of 
Zanzibar — His  Highness  Sayyid  Bnrgash,  with  a  bottle  in 
each  hand.  Then  he  sat  on  the  fore-hatch  grating, 
eating  salt  fish  and  onions,  and  singing  the  songs  of  a  far 
country.  The  food  belonged  to  Pambe,  the  Serang  or 
head  man  of  the  lascar  sailors.  lie  had  just  cooked  it 
for  himself,  turned  to  borrow  some  salt,  and  when  he 
came  back  Nurkeed 's  dirty  black  fingers  were  spading 
into  the  rice. 

A  serang  is  a  person  of  importance,  far  above  a  stoker, 
though  the  stoker  draws  better  pay.  He  sets  the  chorus 
of  '  Ilya!  Hulla!  llee-ah!  Heh!*  when  the  captain's  gig 
is  pulled  up  to  the  davits;  he  heaves  the  lead  too;  and 
sometimes,  when  all  the  ship  is  lazy,  he  puts  on  his 
whitest  muslin  and  a  big  red  sash,  and  plays  with  the 
passengers'  children  on  the  quarter-deck.  Then  the 

1  CopyriKht.  1891.  by  MACMII.LAN  A  Co. 


38  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

passengers  give  him  money,  and  he  saves  it  all  up 
for  an  orgie  at  Bombay  or  Calcutta,  or  Pulu  Penang. 

'Ho!  you  fat  black  barrel,  you're  eating  my  food!' 
said  Pambe,  in  the  Other  Lingua  Franca  that  begins  where 
the  Levant  tongue  stops,  and  runs  from  Port  Said  east- 
ward till  east  is  west,  and  the  sealing-brigs  of  the  Kurile 
Islands  gossip  with  the  strayed  Hakodate  junks. 

'Son  of  Eblis,  monkey-face,  dried  shark's  liver, 
pig-man,  I  am  the  Sultan  Sayyid  Burgash,  and  the 
commander  of  all  this  ship.  Take  away  your  garbage;' 
and  Nurkeed  thrust  the  empty  pewter  rice-plate  into 
Pambe 's  hand. 

Pambe  beat  it  into  a  basin  over  Nurkeed's  woolly 
head.  Nurkeed  drew  his  sheath-knife  and  stabbed 
Pambe  in  the  leg.  Pambe  drew  bin  sheath-knife;  but 
Xurkced  dropped  down  into  the  darkness  of  the  hold 
and  spat  through  the  grating  at  Pambe,  who  was  staining 
the  clean  fore-deck  with  his  blood. 

Only  the  white  moon  saw  these  things;  for  the 
officers  were  looking  after  the  coaling,  and  the  passengers 
were  tossing  in  their  close  cabins.  '  All  right,'  said 
Pambe — and  went  forward  to  tie  up  his  leg — 'we  will 
settle  the  account  later  on.' 

He  was  a  Malay  born  in  India:  married  once  in 
Burma,  where  his  wife  had  a  cigar-shop  on  the  Shwe- 
Dagon  road;  once  in  Singapore,  to  a  Chinese  girl;  and 
once  in  Madras,  to  a  Mahomedan  woman  who  sold 
fowls.  The  English  sailor  cannot,  owing  to  postal  and 
telegraph  facilities,  marry  as  profusely  as  he  used  to 
do;  but  native  sailors  can,  being  uninfluenced  by  the 
barbarous  inventions  of  the  Western  savage.  Pambe 
was  a  good  husband  when  he  happened  to  remember 
the  existence  of  a  wife;  but  he  was  also  a  very  good 
Malay;  and  it  is  not  wise  to  offend  a  Malay,  because  he 


THE  LIMITATIONS  OF  PAMB&  SERANG  39 

does  not  forget  anything.      Moreover,  in   Pambe's  case 
blood  had  been  drawn  and  food  spoiled. 

Next  morning  Nurkeed  rose  with  a  blank  mind.  He 
was  no  longer  Sultan  of  Zanzibar,  but  a  very  hot  stoker. 
So  he  went  on  deck  and  opened  his  jacket  to  the  morning 
breeze,  till  a  sheath-knife  came  like  a  flying-fish  and 
stuck  into  the  woodwork  of  the  cook's  galley  half  an 
inch  from  his  right  armpit.  He  ran  down  below  before 
his  time,  trying  to  remember  what  he  could  have  said  to 
the  owner  of  the  weapon.  At  noon,  when  all  the  ship's 
lascars  were  feeding,  Nurkeed  advanced  into  their  midst, 
and,  being  a  placid  man  with  a  large  regard  for  his  own 
skin,  he  opened  negotiations,  saying,  '  Men  of  the  ship, 
last  night  I  was  drunk,  and  this  morning  I  know  that  I 
behaved  unseemly  to  some  one  or  another  of  you.  Who 
was  that  man,  that  I  may  meet  him  face  to  face  and  say 
that  I  was  drunk  ? ' 

Pambe  measured  the  distance  to  Nurkeed's  naked 
breast.  If  he  sprang  at  him  he  might  be  tripped  up, 
and  a  blind  blow  at  the  chest  sometimes  only  means 
a  gash  on  the  breast-bone.  Ribs  are  difficult  to  thrust 
between  unless  the  subject  be  asleep.  So  he  said 
nothing;  nor  did  the  other  lascars.  Their  faces  im- 
mediately dropped  all  expression,  as  is  the  custom  of 
the  Oriental  when  there  is  killing  on  the  carpet  or 
any  chance  of  trouble.  Nurkeed  looked  long  at  the 
white  eyeballs.  He  was  only  an  African,  and  could 
not  read  characters.  A  big  sigh — almost  a  groan — 
broke  from  him,  and  he  went  back  to  the  furnaces. 
The  lascars  took  up  the  conversation  where  he  had 
interrupted  it.  They  talked  of  the  best  methods  of 
cooking  rice. 

Nnrkeed  suffered  considerably  from  lack  of  fresh 
air  during  the  run  to  Bombay.  He  only  came  on 


40  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

deck  to  breathe  when  all  the  world  was  about;  and 
even  then  a  heavy  block  once  dropped  from  a  derrick 
within  a  foot  of  his  head,  and  an  apparently  firm- 
lashed  grating  on  which  he  set  his  foot,  began  to  turn 
over  with  the  intention  of  dropping  him  on  the  cased 
cargo  fifteen  feet  below;  and  one  insupportable  night  the 
sheath-knife  dropped  from  the  fo'c's'le,  and  this  time  it 
drew  blood.  So  Nurkeed  made  complaint;  and,  when 
the  Saarbrnck  reached  Bombay,  fled  and  buried  himself 
among  eight  hundred  thousand  people,  and  did  not  sign 
articles  till  the  ship  had  -been  a  month  gone  from  the 
port.  Pambe  waited  too;  but  his  Bombay  wife  grew 
clamorous,  and  he  was  forced  to  sign  in  the  tfpicheren 
to  Hongkong,  because  he  realised  that  all  play  and 
no  work  gives  Jack  a  ragged  shirt.  In  the  foggy 
China  seas  he  thought  a  great  deal  of  Nurkeed,  and, 
when  Elsass-Lothringen  steamers  lay  in  port  with  the 
Spiclieren,  inquired  after  him  and  found  he  had  gone 
to  England  via  the  Cape,  on  the  Gravelotte.  Pambe 
came  to  England  on  the  Worth.  The  tfjiicheren  met 
her  by  the  Nore  Light.  Nurkeed  was  going  out  with 
the  Spichercn  to  the  Calicut  coast. 

'  Want  to  find  a  friend,  my  trap-mouthed  coal- 
scuttle?' said  a  gentleman  in  the  mercantile  service. 
'  Nothing  easier.  Wait  at  the  Nyanza  Docks  till  he 
comes.  Every  one  comes  to  the  Nyanza  Docks.  Wait, 
you  poor  heathen.'  The  gentleman  spoke  truth.  There 
are  three  great  doors  in  the  world  where,  if  you  stand 
long  enough,  you  shall  meet  any  one  you  wish.  The 
head  of  the  Suez  Canal  is  one,  but  there  Death  comes 
also;  Charing  Cross  Station  is  the  second — for  inland 
work;  and  the  Nyanza  Docks  is  the  third.  At  each  of 
these  places  are  men  and  women  looking  eternally  for 
those  who  will  surely  come.  So  Pambe  waited  at 


the  docks.  Time  was  no  object  to  him;  and  the  wives 
could  wait,  as  he  did  from  day  to  day,  week  to  week,  and 
month  to  month,  by  the  Blue  Diamond  funnels,  the  Red 
Dot  smoke-stacks,  the  Yellow  Streaks,  and  the  nameless 
dingy  gypsies  of  the  sea  that  loaded  and  unloaded, 
jostled,  whistled,  and  roared  in  the  everlasting  fog. 
When  money  failed,  a  kind  gentleman  told  Pambe 
to  become  a  Christian;  and  Pambe  became  one  with 
great  speed,  getting  his  religious  teachings  between 
ship  and  ship's  arrival,  and  six  or  seven  shillings  a 
week  for  distributing  tracts  to  mariners.  What  the 
faith  was  Pambe  did  not  in  the  least  care;  but  he 
knew  if  he  said  '  Native  Ki-lis-ti-an,  Sar '  to  men 
with  long  black  coats  he  might  get  a  few  coppers; 
and  the  tracts  were  vendible  at  a  little  public-house  that 
sold  shag  by  the  'dottel/  which  is  even  smaller 
weight  than  the  'half-screw,'  which  is  less  than  the 
half-ounce,  and  a  most  profitable  retail  trade. 

But  after  eight  months  Pambe  fell  sick  with  pneu- 
monia, contracted  from  long  standing  still  in  slush;  and 
much  against  his  will  he  was  forced  to  lie  down  in  his 
two-and-sixpenny  room  raging  against  Fate. 

The  kind  gentleman  sat  by  his  bedside,  and  grieved 
to  find  that  Pambe  talked  in  strange  tongues,  instead  of 
listening  to  good  books,  and  almost  seemed  to  become  a 
benighted  heathen  again — till  one  day  he  was  roused  from 
semi-stupor  by  a  voice  in  the  street  by  the  dock-head. 
'  My  friend — he,'  whispered  Pambe.  '  Call  now — call 
Nurkeed.  Quick!  God  has  sent  him!' 

'He  wanted  one  of  his  own  race,'  said  the  kind  gentle- 
man; and,  going  out,  he  called  '  Nurkeed! '  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  An  excessively  coloured  man  in  a  rasping  white 
shirt  and  brand-new  slops,  a  shining  hat,  and  a  breast- 
pin, turned  round.  Many  voyages  had  taught  Nurkeed 


42  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

how  to  spend  his  money  and  made  him  a  citizen  of  the 
world. 

'  Hi !  Yes ! '  said  he,  when  the  situation  was  ex- 
plained. '  Command  him — black  nigger — when  I  was 
in  the  Saarbruck.  Ole  Pambe,  good  ole  Pambe.  Dam 
lascar.  Show  him  up,  Sar;'  and  he  followed  into  the 
room.  One  glance  told  the  stoker  what  the  kind 
gentleman  had  overlooked.  Pambe  was  desperately 
poor.  Nurkeed  drove  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets, 
then  advanced  with  clenched  fists  on  the  sick,  shouting, 
<Hya,  Pambe.  Hya!  Hee-ah!  Hulla!  Heh!  Takilo! 
Takilo!  Make  fast  aft,  Pambe.  You  know,  Pambe. 
You  know  me.  Dekho,  jee!  Look!  Dam  big  fat  lazy 
lascar ! ' 

Pambe  beckoned  with  his  left  hand.  His  right 
was  under  his  pillow.  Nurkeed  removed  his  gorgeous 
hat  and  stooped  over  Pambe  till  he  could  catch  a  faint 
whisper.  'How  beautiful!'  said  the  kind  gentleman. 
*  How  these  Orientals  love  like  children! ' 

'Spit  him  out,'  said  Nurkeed,  leaning  over  Pambe  yet 
more  closely. 

'  Touching  the    matter  of   that  fish   and   onions — 
said  Pambe — and  sent  the  knife  home  under  the  edge  of 
the  rib-bone  upwards  and  forwards. 

There  was  a  thick  sick  cough,  and  the  body  of  the  Afri- 
can slid  slowly  from  the  bed,  his  clutching  hands  letting 
fall  a  shower  of  silver  pieces  that  ran  across  the  room. 

'  Now  I  can  die! '  said  Pambe. 

But  he  did  not  die.  He  was  nursed  back  to  life  with 
all  the  skill  tliat  money  could  buy,  for  the  Law  wanted 
him;  and  in  the  end  he  grew  sufficiently  healthy  to  be 
hanged  in  due  and  proper  form. 

Pambe  did  not  care  particularly;  but  it  was  a  sad 
blow  to  the  kind  gentleman. 


LITTLE  TOBKAH1 

'  PRISONER'S  head  did  not  reach  to  the  top  of  the  dock/ 
as  the  English  newspapers  say.  This  case,  however,  was 
not  reported  because  nobody  cared  by  so  much  as  a 
hempen  rope  for  the  life  or  death  of  Little  Tobrah.  The 
assessors  in  the  red  court-house  sat  upon  him  all  through 
the  long  hot  afternoon,  and  whenever  they  asked  him  a 
question  he  salaamed  and  whined.  Their  verdict  was 
that  the  evidence  was  inconclusive,  and  the  Judge  con- 
curred. It  was  true  that  the  dead  body  of  Little  Tobrah's 
sister  had  been  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  well,  and 
Little  Tobrah  was  the  only  human  being  within  a  half 
mile  radius  at  the  time ;  but  the  child  might  have  fallen 
in  by  accident.  Therefore  Little  Tobrah  was  acquitted, 
and  told  to  go  where  he  pleased.  This  permission  was 
not  so  generous  as  it  sounds,  for  he  had  nowhere  to  go 
to,  nothing  in  particular  to  eat,  and  nothing  whatever  to 
wear. 

He  trotted  into  the  court-compound,  and  sat  upon  the 
well-kerb,  wondering  whether  an  unsuccessful  dive  into 
the  black  water  below  would  end  in  a  forced  voyage 
across  the  other  Black  Water.  A  groom  put  down  an 
emptied  nose-bag  on  the  bricks,  and  Little  Tobrah,  being 
hungry,  set  himself  to  scrape  out  what  wet  grain  the 
horse  had  overlooked. 

'  0  Thief — and  but  newly  set  free  from  the  terror  of 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  M ACHILLAS-  &  Co. 


44  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

the  Law  !  Come  along  ! '  said  the  groom,  and  Little  Tobrah 
was  led  by  the  ear  to  a  large  and  fat  Englishman,  who 
heard  the  tale  of  the  theft. 

'  Hah  !'  said  the  Englishman  three  times  (only  he  said 
a  stronger  word).  'Put  him  into  the  net  and  take  him 
home.'  So  Little  Tobrah  was  thrown  into  the  net  of  the 
cart,  and,  nothing  doubting  that  lie  should  be  stuck  like 
a  pig>  was  driven  to  the  Englishman's  house.  'Hah  !' 
said  the  Englishman  as  before.  '  Wet  grain,  by  Jove  ! 
Feed  the  little  beggar,  some  of  you,  and  we'll  make  a 
riding-boy  of  him  !  See  ?  Wet  grain,  good  Lord  ! ' 

'Give  an  account  of  yourself/  said  the  Head  of  the 
Grooms,  to  Little  Tobrah  after  the  meal  had  been  eaten, 
and  the  servants  lay  at  ease  in  their  quarters  behind  the 
house.  '  You  are  not  of  the  groom  caste,  unless  it  be  for 
the  stomach's  sake.  How  came  you  into  the  court,  and 
why  ?  Answer,  little  devil's  spawn  ! ' 

'There  was  not  enough  to  eat,'  said  Little  Tobrah 
calmly.  'This  is  a  good  place.' 

'Talk  straight  talk,'  said  the  Head  Groom,  'or  I  will 
make  you  clean  out  the  stable  of  that  large  red  stallion 
who  bites  like  a  camel.' 

'  We  be  Telia,  oil-pressers,'  said  Little  Tobrah,  scratch- 
ing his  toes  in  the  dust.  '  We  were  Telia — my  father, 
my  mother,  my  brother,  the  elder  by  four  years,  myself, 
and  the  sister.' 

'  She  who  was  found  dead  in  the  well  ? '  said  one  who 
had  heard  something  of  the  trial. 

'Even  so,'  said  Little  Tobrah  gravely.  'She  who  was 
found  dead  in  the  well.  It  befel  upon  a  time,  which  is 
not  in  my  memory,  that  the  sickness  came  to  the  village 
where  our  oil-press  stood,  and  first  my  sister  was  smitten 
as  to  her  eyes,  and  went  without  sight,  for  it  was  mata — 
the  smallpox.  Thereafter,  my  father  and  my  mother 


LITTLE  TOBRAH  45 

died  of  that  same  sickness,  so  we  were  alone — my  brother 
who  had  twelve  years,  I  who  had  eight,  and  the  sister 
who  could  not  see.  Yet  were  there  the  bullock  and  the 
oil-press  remaining,  and  we  made  shift  to  press  the  oil  as 
before.  But  Surjun  Dass,  the  grain-seller,  cheated  iis  in 
his  dealings;  and  it  was  always  a  stubborn  bullock  to 
drive.  We  put  marigold  flowers  for  the  Gods  upon  the 
neck  of  the  bullock,  and  upon  the  great  grind  ing-beam 
that  rose  through  the  roof  ;  but  we  gained  nothing  thereby, 
and  Surjun  Dass  was  a  hard  man/ 

•  Bapri-bap,'  muttered  the  grooms'  wives,  '  to  cheat  a 
child    so !     But    ive    know    what    the    bunnia-folk.    are, 
sisters/ 

*  The  press  was  an  old  press,  and  we  were  not  strong 
men — my  brother  and  I ;  nor  could  we  fix  the  neck  of 
the  beam  firmly  in  the  shackle.' 

'Nay,  indeed,'  said   the   gorgeously-clad    wife  of  the 
Head  Groom,  joining  the  circle.      '  That  is  a  strong  man's 

work.     When  I  was  a  maid  in  my  father's  house ' 

'Peace,  woman,'  said  the  Head  Groom.  'Go  on,  boy.' 
'It  is  nothing/  said  Little  Tobrah.  'The  big  beam 
tore  down  the  roof  upon  a  day  which  is  not  in  my 
memory,  and  with  the  roof  fell  much  of  the  hinder  wall, 
and  both  together  upon  our  bullock,  whose  back  was 
broken.  Thus  we  had  neither  home,  nor  press,  nor  bul- 
lock— my  brother,  myself,  and  the  sister  who  was  blind. 
We  went  crying  away  from  that  place,  hand-in-hand, 
across  the  fields;  and  our  money  was  seven  annas  and  six 
pie.  There  was  a  famine  in  the  land.  I  do  not  know 
the  name  of  the  land.  So,  on  a  night  when  we  were 
sleeping,  my  brother  took  the  five  annas  that  remained 
to  us  and  ran  away.  I  do  not  know  whither  he  went. 
The  curse  of  my  father  be  upon  him.  But  I  and  the 
sister  begged  food  in  the  villages,  and  there  was  none  to 


46  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

give.  Only  all  men  said— "Go  to  the  Englishmen  and 
they  will  give."  I  did  not  know  what  the  Englishmen 
were  ;  hut  they  said  that  they  were  white,  living  in  tents. 
I  went  forward  ;  but  I  cannot  say  whither  I  went,  and 
there  was  no  more  food  for  myself  or  the  sister.  And 
upon  a  hot  night,  she  weeping  and  calling  for  food,  we 
came  to  a  well,  and  I  bade  her  sit  upon  the  kerb,  and 
thrust  her  in,  for,  in  truth,  she  could  not  see  ;  and  it  is 
better  to  die  than  to  starve.' 

'  Ai  !  Ahi  !'  wailed  the  grooms'  wives  in  chorus  ;  'he 
thrust  her  in,  for  it  is  better  to  die  than  to  starve  ! ' 

'  I  would  have  thrown  myself  in  also,  but  that  she 
was  not  dead  and  called  to  me  from  the  bottom  of  the 
well,  and  I  was  afraid  and  ran.  And  one  came  out  of 
the  crops  saying  that  I  had  killed  her  and  defiled  the 
well,  and  they  took  me  before  an  Englishman,  white  and 
terrible,  living  in  a  tent,  and  me  he  sent  here.  But 
there  were  no  witnesses,  and  it  is  better  to  die  than  to 
starve.  She,  furthermore,  could  not  see  with  her  eyes, 
and  was  but  a  little  child.' 

'Was  but  a  little  child,'  echoed  the  Head  Groom's 
wife.  '  But  who  art  thou,  weak  as  a  fowl  and  small  as 
a  day-old  colt,  what  art  thou?' 

'I  who  was  empty  am  now  full,'  said  little  Tobrah, 
stretching  himself  upon  the  dust.  'And  I  would  sleep.' 

The  groom's  wife  spread  a  cloth  over  him  while  Little 
Tobrah  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just.' 


BUBBLING  WELL  KOAD ' 

LOOK  out  on  a  large  scale  map  the  place  where  the 
Chenab  river  falls  into  the  Indus  fifteen  miles  or  so  above 
the  hamlet  of  Chachuran.  Five  miles  west  of  Chaclmran 
lies  Bubbling  Well  Road,  and  the  house  of  the  gosain  or 
priest  of  Arti-goth.  It  was  the  priest  who  showed  me 
the  road,  but  it  is  no  thanks  to  him  that  I  am  able  to 
tell  this  story. 

Five  miles  west  of  Chachuran  is  a  patch  of  the 
plumed  jungle-grass,  that  turns  over  in  silver  when  the 
wind  blows,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  high  and  from  three 
to  four  miles  square.  In  the  heart  of  the  patch  hides  the 
gosain  of  Bubbling  Well  Road.  The  villagers  stone  him 
when  he  peers  into  the  daylight,  although  he  is  a  priest, 
and  he  runs  back  again  as  a  strayed  wolf  turns  into  tall 
crops.  He  is  a  one-eyed  man  and  carries,  burnt  between 
his  brows,  the  impress  of  two  copper  coins.  Some  say 
that  he  was  tortured  by  a  native  prince  in  the  old  days  ; 
for  he  is  so  old  that  he  must  have  been  capable  of 
mischief  in  the  days  of  Run  jit  Singh.  His  most  pressing 
need  at  present  is  a  halter,  and  the  care  of  the  British 
Government. 

These  things  happened  when  the  jungle-grass  was 
tall ;  and  the  villagers  of  Chachuran  told  me  that  a 
sounder  of  pig  had  gone  into  the  Arti-goth  patch.  To  enter 
jungle-grass  is  always  an  unwise  proceeding,  but  I  went, 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


48  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

partly  because  I  knew  nothing  of  pig-hunting,  and  partly 
because  the  villagers  said  that  the  big  boar  of  the  sounder 
owned  foot  long  tushes.  Therefore  I  wished  to  shoot  him, 
in  order  to  produce  the  tushes  in  after  years,  and  say  that 
I  had  ridden  him  down  in  fair  chase.  I  took  a  gun  and 
went  into  the  hot,  close  patch,  believing  that  it  would  be 
an  easy  thing  to  unearth  one  pig  in  ten  square  miles  of 
jungle.  Mr.  Wardle,  the  terrier,  went  with  me  because  lie 
believed  that  I  was  incapable  of  existing  for  an  hour 
without  his  advice  and  countenance.  He  managed  to  slip 
in  and  out  between  the  grass  clumps,  but  I  had  to  force 
my  way,  and  in  twenty  minutes  was  as  completely  lost  as 
though  I  had  been  in  the  heart  of  Central  Africa.  I  did 
not  notice  this  at  first  till  I  had  grown  wearied  of  stumb- 
ling and  pushing  through  the  grass,  and  Mr.  Wardle  was 
beginning  to  sit  down  very  often  and  hang  out  his  tongue 
very  far.  There  was  nothing  but  grass  everywhere,  and 
it  was  impossible  to  see  two  yards  in  any  direction.  The 
grass-stems  held  the  heat  exactly  as  boiler-tubes  do. 

In  half  an  hour,  when  I  was  devoutly  wishing  that  I 
had  left  the  big  boar  alone,  I  came  to  a  narrow  path 
which  seemed  to  be  a  compromise  between  a  native  foot- 
path and  a  pig-run.  It  was  barely  six  inches  wide,  but  I 
could  sidle  along  it  in  comfort.  The  grass  was  extremely 
thick  here,  and  where  the  path  was  ill  defined  it  was 
necessary  to  crush  into  the  tussocks  either  with  both 
hands  before  the  face,  or  to  back  into  it,  leaving  both 
hands  free  to  manage  the  rifle.  None  the  less  it  wras  a 
path,  and  valuable  because  it  might  lead  to  a  place. 

At  the  end  of  nearly  fifty  yards  of  fair  way,  just  when 
I  was  preparing  to  back  into  an  unusually  stiff  tussock,  I 
missed  Mr.  Wardle,  who  for  his  girth  is  an  unusually 
frivolous  dog  and  never  keeps  to  heel.  I  called  him  three 
times  and  said  aloud,  *  Where  has  the  little  beast  gone 


BUBBLING  WELL  ROAD  49 

to?'  Then  I  stepped  backwards  several  paces,  for  almost 
under  my  feet  a  deep  voice  repeated,  *  Where  has  the 
little  beast  gone?'  To  appreciate  an  unseen  voice 
thoroughly  you  should  hear  it  when  you  are  lost  in 
stifling  jungle  grass.  I  called  Mr.  Wardle  again  and  the 
underground  echo  assisted  me.  At  that  I  ceased  culling 
and  listened  very  attentively,  because  I  thought  I  heard  a 
man  laughing  in  a  peculiarly  offensive  manner.  The  heat 
made  me  sweat,  but  the  laughter  made  me  shake.  There 
is  no  earthly  need  for  laughter  in  high  grass.  It  is 
indecent,  as  well  as  impolite.  The  chuckling  stopped,  and 
I  took  courage  and  continued  to  call  till  I  thought  that  I 
had  located  the  echo  somewhere  behind  and  below  the 
tussock  into  which  I  was  preparing  to  back  just  before  I 
lost  Mr.  Wardle.  I  drove  my  rifle  up  to  the  triggers, 
between  the  grass-stems  in  a  downward  and  forward 
direction.  Then  I  waggled  it  to  and  fro,  but  it  did  not 
seem  to  touch  ground  on  the  far  side  of  the  tussock  as 
it  should  have  done.  Every  time  that  I  grunted  with 
the  exertion  of  driving  a  heavy  rifle  through  thick  grass, 
the  grunt  was  faithfully  repeated  from  below,  and  when  I 
stopped  to  wipe  my  face  the  sound  of  low  laughter  was 
distinct  beyond  doubting. 

I  went  into  the  tussock,  face  first,  an  inch  at  a  time, 
my  mouth  open  and  my  eyes  fine,  full,  and  prominent. 
When  I  had  overcome  the  resistance  of  the  grass  I  found 
that  I  was  looking  straight  across  a  black  gap  in  the 
ground — that  I  was  actually  lying  on  my  chest  leaning 
over  the  mouth  of  a  well  so  deep  I  could  scarcely  see  the 
water  in  it. 

There  were  things  in  the  water, — black  things, — and 
the  water  was  as  black  as  pitch  with  blue  scum  atop. 
The  laughing  sound  came  from  the  noise  of  a  little  spring, 
spouting  half-way  down  one  side  of  the  well.  Sometimes 


50  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

iis  the  black  things  circled  round,  the  trickle  from  the 
spring  fell  upon  their  tightly-stretched  skins,  and  then 
the  laughter  changed  into  a  sputter  of  mirth.  One  thing 
turned  over  on  its  back,  as  I  watched,  and  drifted  round 
and  round  the  circle  of  the  mossy  brickwork  with  a 
hand  and  half  an  arm  held  clear  of  the  water  in  a  stiff 
and  horrible  flourish,  as  though  it  were  a  very  wearied 
guide  paid  to  exhibit  the  beauties  of  the  place. 

I  did  not  spend  more  than  half-an-hour  in  creeping 
round  that  well  and  rinding  the  path  on  the  other  side. 
The  remainder  of  the  journey  I  accomplished  by  feeling 
every  foot  of  ground  in  front  of  me,  and  crawling  like  a 
snail  through  every  tussock.  I  carried  Mr.  Wardle  in  my 
arms  and  he  licked  my  nose.  He  was  not  frightened  in 
the  least,  nor  was  I,  but  we  wished  to  reach  open  ground 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  view.  My  knees  were  loose,  and  the 
apple  in  my  throat  refused  to  slide  up  and  down.  The 
path  on  the  far  side  of  the  well  was  a  very  good  one, 
though  boxed  in  on  all  sides  by  grass,  and  it  led  me  in  time 
to  a  priest's  hut  in  the  centre  of  a  little  clearing.  "When 
that  priest  saw  my  very  white  face  coming  through  the 
grass  he  howled  with  terror  and  embraced  my  boots  ;  but 
when  I  reached  the  bedstead  set  outside  his  door  I  sat 
down  quickly  and  Mr.  Wardle  mounted  guard  over  me. 
I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  take  care  of  myself. 

When  I  awoke  I  told  the  priest  to  lead  me  into  the 
open,  out  of  the  Arti-goth  patch,  and  to  walk  slowly  in 
front  of  me.  Mr.  Wardle  hates  natives,  and  the  priest 
was  more  afraid  of  Mr.  Wardle  than  of  me,  though  we 
were  both  angry.  He  walked  very  slowly  down  a  narrow 
little  path  from  his  hut.  That  path  crossed  three  paths, 
such  as  the  one  I  had  come  by  in  the  first  instance,  and 
every  one  of  the  three  headed  towards  the  Bubbling  Well. 
Once  when  we  stopped  to  draw  breath,  I  heard  the  Well 


BUBBLING  WELL  ROAD  51 

laughing  to  itself  alone  in  the  thick  grass,  and  only  my 
need  for  his  services  prevented  my  firing  both  barrels  into 
the  priest'a  back. 

When  we  came  to  the  open  the  priest  crashed  back 
into  cover,  and  I  went  to  the  village  of  Arti-goth  for  a 
drink.  It  was  pleasant  to  be  able  to  see  the  horizon  all 
round,  as  well  as  the  ground  underfoot. 

The  villagers  told  me  that  the  patch  of  grass  was  full 
of  devils  and  ghosts,  all  in  the  service  of  the  priest,  and 
that  men  and  women  and  children  had  entered  it  and  had 
never  returned.  They  said  the  priest  used  their  livers  for 
purposes  of  witchcraft.  AVhen  I  asked  why  they  had  not 
told  me  of  this  at  the  outset,  they  said  that  they  were 
afraid  they  would  lose  their  reward  for  bringing  news  of 
the  pig. 

Before  I  left  I  did  my  best  to  set  the  patch  alight, 
but  the  grass  was  too  green.  Some  fine  summer  day,  how- 
ever, if  the  wind  is  favourable,  a  file  of  old  newspapers  and  a 
box  of  matches  will  make  clear  the  mystery  of  BubbliTig 
Well  Road. 


'THE  CITY  OF  DKEADFUL  NIGHT' 

THE  dense  wet  heat  that  hung  over  the  face  of  land,  like 
a  blanket,  prevented  all  hope  of  sleep  in  the  first  instance. 
The  cicalas  helped  the  heat;  and  the  yelling  jackals  the 
cicalas.  It  was  impossible  to  sit  still  in  the  dark,  empty, 
echoing  house  and  watch  the  punkah  beat  the  dead  air. 
So,  at  ten  o'clock  of  the  night,  I  set  my  walking-stick  on 
end  in  the  middle  of  the  garden,  and  waited  to  see  how 
it  would  fall.  It  pointed  directly  down  the  moonlit  road 
that  leads  to  the  City  of  Dreadful  Night.  The  sound  of 
its  fall  disturbed  a  hare.  She  limped  from  her  form  and 
ran  across  to  a  disused  Mahomedan  burial-ground,  where 
the  jawless  skulls  and  rough-butted  shank-bones,  heart- 
lessly exposed  by  the  July  rains,  glimmered  like  mother 
o'  pearl  on  the  rain-channelled  soil.  The  heated  air  and 
the  heavy  earth  had  driven  the  very  dead  upward  for 
coolness'  sake.  The  hare  limped  on;  snuffed  curiously 
at  a  fragment  of  a  smoke-stained  lamp-shard,  and  died 
out,  in  the  shadow  of  a  clump  of  tamarisk  trees. 

The  mat-weaver's  hut  under  the  lee  of  the  Hindu 
temple  was  full  of  sleeping  men  who  lay  like  sheeted 
corpses.  Overhead  blazed  the  unwinking  eye  of  the 
Moon.  Darkness  gives  at  least  a  false  impression  of 
coolness.  It  was  hard  not  to  believe  that  the  flood 
of  light  from  above  was  warm.  Not  so  hot  as  the  Sun, 
but  still  sickly  warm,  and  heating  the  heavy  air  beyond 

»  Copyright,  1891,  l>y  MACMII.J.AN  &  Co. 


•THE  CITY  OF  DREADFUL  NIGHT*  53 

what  was  our  due.  Straight  as  a  bar  of  polished  steel 
ran  the  road  to  the  City  of  Dreadful  Night ;  and  on 
either  side  of  the  road  lay  corpses  disposed  on  beds  in 
fantastic  attitudes — one  hundred  and  seventy  bodies 
of  men.  Some  shrouded  all  in  white  with  bound-up 
mouths;  some  naked  and  black  as  ebony  in  the  strong 
light;  and  one — that  lay  face  upwards  with  dropped 
jaw,  far  away  from  the  others — silvery  white  and  ashen 

gray. 

'A  leper  asleep;  and  the  remainder  wearied  coolies, 
servants,  small  shopkeepers,  and  drivers  from  the  hack- 
stand hard  by.  The  scene — a  main  approach  to  Lahore 
city,  and  the  night  a  warm  one  in  August.'  This  was  all 
that  there  was  to  be  seen;  but  by  no  means  all  that  one 
could  see.  The  witchery  of  the  moonlight  was  every- 
where; and  the  world  was  horribly  changed.  The  long 
line  of  the  naked  dead,  flanked  by  the  rigid  silver  statue, 
was  not  pleasant  to  look  upon.  It  was  made  up  of 
men  alone.  Were  the  womenkind,  then,  forced  to  sleep 
in  the  shelter  of  the  stifling  mud-huts  as  best  they 
might  ?  The  fretful  wail  of  a  child  from  a  low  mud-roof 
answered  the  question.  Where  the  children  are  the 
mothers  must  be  also  to  look  after  them.  They  need 
care  on  these  sweltering  nights.  A  black  little  bullet- 
head  peeped  over  the  coping,  and  a  thin — a  painfully 
tli in — brown  leg  was  slid  over  on  to  the  gutter  pipe. 
There  was  a  sharp  clink  of  glass  bracelets;  a  woman's 
arm  showed  for  an  instant  above  the  parapet,  twined 
itself  round  the  lean  little  neck,  and  the  child  was 
dragged  back,  protesting,  to  the  shelter  of  the  bedstead. 
His  thin,  high-pitched  shriek  died  out  in  the  thick  air 
almost  as  soon  as  it  was  raised;  for  even  the  children  of 
the  soil  found  it  too  hot  to  weep. 

More  corpses;  more  stretches  of  moonlit,  white  road; 


54  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

a  string  of  sleeping  camels  at  rest  by  the  wayside  ;  a 
vision  of  scudding  jackals;  ekka-ponies  asleep  —  the 
harness  still  on  their  hacks,  and  the  brass-studded 
country  carts,  winking  in  the  moonlight — and  again 
more  corpses.  Wherever  a  grain  cart  atilt,  a  tree 
trunk,  a  sawn  log,  a  couple  of  bamboos  and  a  few 
handfuls  of  thatch  cast  a  shadow,  the  ground  is  covered 
with  them.  They  lie  —  some  face  downwards,  arms 
folded,  in  the  dust ;  some  with  clasped  hands  flung  up 
above  their  heads  ;  some  curled  up  dog-wise  ;  some 
thrown  like  limp  gunny-bags  over  the  side  of  the 
grain  carts  ;  and  some  bowed  with  their  brows  on  their 
knees  in  the  full  glare  of  the  Moon.  It  would  be  a 
comfort  if  they  were  only  given  to  snoring;  but  they 
are  not,  and  the  likeness  to  corpses  is  unbroken  in  all 
respects  save  one.  The  lean  dogs  snuff  at  them  and 
turn  away.  Here  and  there  a  tiny  child  lies  on  his 
father's  bedstead,  and  a  protecting  arm  is  thrown  round 
it  in  every  instance.  But,  for  the  most  part,  the  children 
sleep  with  their  mothers  on  the  housetops.  Yellow-skinned 
white-toothed  pariahs  are  not  to  be  trusted  within  reach 
of  brown  bodies. 

A  stifling  hot  blast  from  the  mouth  of  the  Delhi 
Gate  nearly  ends  my  resolution  of  entering  the  City 
of  Dreadful  Night  at  this  hour.  It  is  a  com- 
pound of  all  evil  savours,  animal  and  vegetable,  that  a 
walled  city  can  brew  in  a  day  and  a  night.  The  tem- 
perature within  the  motionless  groves  of  plantain  and 
orange-trees  outside  the  city  walls  seems  chilly  by  com- 
parison. Heaven  help  all  sick  persons  and  young 
children  within  the  city  to-night  !  The  high  house- 
walls  are  still  radiating  heat  savagely,  and  from  obscure 
side  gullies  fetid  breezes  eddy  that  ought  to  poison  a 
buffalo.  But  the  buffaloes  do  not  heed.  A  drove  of 


'THE  CITY  OF  DREADFUL  NIGHT'  55 

them  are  parading  the  vacant  main  street;  stopping 
now  and  then  to  lay  their  ponderous  muzzles  against 
the  closed  shutters  of  a  grain-dealer's  shop,  and  to  blow 
thereon  like  grampuses. 

Then  silence  follows — the  silence  that  is  full  of  the 
night  noises  of  a  great  city.  A  stringed  instrument  of 
some  kind  is  just,  and  only  just,  audible.  High  over- 
head some  one  throws  open  a  window,  and  the  rattle 
of  the  wood-work  echoes  down  the  empty  street.  On 
one  of  the  roofs,  a  hookah  is  in  full  blast;  and  the  men 
are  talking  softly  as  the  pipe  gutters.  A  little  farther 
on,  the  noise  of  conversation  is  more  distinct.  A  slit  of 
light  shows  itself  between  the  sliding  shutters  of  a  shop. 
Inside,  a  stubble-bearded,  weary-eyed  trader  is  balancing 
his  account-books  among  the  bales  of  cotton  prints  that 
surround  him.  Three  sheeted  figures  bear  him  company, 
and  throw  in  a  remark  from  time  to  time.  First  he 
makes  an  entry,  then  a  remark  ;  then  passes  the  back  of 
his  hand  across  his  streaming  forehead.  The  heat  in  the 
built-in  street  is  fearful.  Inside  the  shops  it  must  be 
almost  unendurable.  But  the  work  goes  on  steadily ; 
entry,  guttural  growl,  and  uplifted  hand-stroke  succeeding 
each  other  with  the  precision  of  clock-work. 

A  policeman — turbanless  and  fast  asleep — lies  across 
the  road  on  the  way  to  the  Mosque  of  Wazir  Khan.  A 
bar  of  moonlight  falls  across  the  forehead  and  eyes  of  the 
sleeper,  but  he  never  stirs.  It  is  close  upon  midnight, 
and  the  heat  seems  to  be  increasing.  The  open  square 
in  front  of  the  Mosque  is  crowded  with  corpses;  and  a 
man  must  pick  his  way  carefully  for  fear  of  treading  on 
them.  The  moonlight  stripes  the  Mosque's  high  front  of 
coloured  enamel  work  in  broad  diagonal  bands  ;  and  each 
separate  dreaming  pigeon  in  the  niches  and  corners  of  the 
masonry  throws  a  squab  little  shadow.  Sheeted  ghosts 


56  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

rise  up  wearily  from  their  pallets,  and  flit  into  the  dark 
depths  of  the  building.  Is  it  possible  to  climb  to  the 
top  of  the  great  Minars,  and  thence  to  look  down  on  the 
city  ?  At  all  events  the  attempt  is  worth  making,  and 
the  chances  are  that  the  door  of  the  staircase  will  be 
unlocked.  Unlocked  it  is;  but  a  deeply  sleeping  janitor 
lies  across  the  threshold,  face  turned  to  the  Moon.  A 
rat  dashes  out  of  his  turban  at  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps.  The  man  grunts,  opens  his  eyes  for  a  minute, 
turns  round,  and  goes  to  sleep  again.  All  the  heat 
of  a  decade  of  fierce  Indian  summers  is  stored  in  the 
pitch-black,  polished  walls  of  the  corkscrew  staircase. 
Half-way  up,  there  is  something  alive,  warm,  and 
feathery;  and  it  snores.  Driven  from  step  to  step  as 
it  catches  the  sound  of  my  advance,  it  flutters  to 
the  top  and  reveals  itself  as  a  yellow-eyed,  angry  kite. 
Dozens  of  kites  are  asleep  on  this  and  the  other  Minars, 
and  on  the  domes  below.  There  is  the  shadow  of  a  cool, 
or  at  least  a  less  sultry  breeze  at  this  height;  and, 
refreshed  thereby,  turn  to  look  on  the  City  of  Dreadful 
Night. 

Dore  might  have  drawn  it  !  Zola  could  describe  it — 
this  spectacle  of  sleeping  thousands  in  the  moonlight  and 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Moon.  The  roof-tops  are  crammed 
with  men,  women,  and  children  ;  and  the  air  is  full  of 
undistinguishable  noises.  They  are  restless  in  the  City 
of  Dreadful  Night ;  and  small  wonder.  The  marvel 
is  that  they  can  even  breathe.  If  you  gaze  intently 
at  the  multitude,  you  can  see  that  they  are  almost 
as  uneasy  as  a  daylight  crowd  ;  but  the  tumult  is 
subdued.  Everywhere,  in  the  strong  light,  you  can 
watch  the  sleepers  turning  to  and  fro  ;  shifting  their 
beds  and  again  resettling  them.  In  the  pit-like  court- 
yards of  the  houses  there  is  the  same  movement. 


'THE  CITY  OF  DREADFUL  NIGHT'  5? 

The  pitiless  Moon  shows  it  all.  Shows,  too,  the  plains 
outside  the  city,  and  here  and  there  a  hand's-breadth  of 
the  Ravee  without  the  walls.  Shows  lastly,  a  splash  of 
glittering  silver  on  a  house-top  almost  directly  below  the 
mosque  Minar.  Some  poor  soul  has  risen  to  throw  a  jar 
of  water  over  his  fevered  body;  the  tinkle  of  the  falling 
water  strikes  faintly  on  the  ear.  Two  or  three  other 
men,  in  far-off  corners  of  the  City  of  Dreadful  Night,  follow 
his  example,  and  the  water  flashes  like  heliographic 
signals.  A  small  cloud  passes  over  the  face  of  the  Moon, 
and  the  city  and  its  inhabitants — clear  drawn  in  black 
and  white  before — fade  into  masses  of  black  and 
deeper  black.  Still  the  unrestful  noise  continues,  the 
sigh  of  a  great  city  overwhelmed  with  the  heat,  and  of  a 
people  seeking  in  vain  for  rest.  It  is  only  the  lower- 
class  women  who  sleep  on  the  housetops.  AVhat  must 
the  torment  be  in  the  latticed  zenanas,  where  a  few  lamps 
are  still  twinkling?  There  are  footfalls  in  the  court  below. 
It  is  the  Muezzin — faithful  minister;  but  he  ought  to 
have  been  here  an  hour  ago  to  tell  the  Faithful  that 
prayer  is  better  than  sleep — the  sleep  that  will  not  come 
to  the  city. 

The  Muezzin  fumbles  for  a  moment  with  the  door  of  one 
of  the  Minars,  disappears  awhile,  and  a  bull-like  roar — a 
magnificent  bass  thunder — tells  that  he  has  reached  the  top 
of  the  Minar.  They  must  hear  the  cry  to  the  banks  of  the 
shrunken  Ravee  itself!  Even  across  the  courtyard  it  is 
almost  overpowering.  The  cloud  drifts  by  and  shows  him 
outlined  in  black  against  the  sky,  hands  laid  upon  his 
ears,  and  broad  chest  heaving  with  the  play  of  his  lungs — 
'Allah  ho  Akbar';  then  a  pause  while  another  Muezzin 
somewhere  in  the  direction  of  the  Golden  Temple  takes 
up  the  call — 'Allah  ho  Akbar.'  Again  and  again;  four 
times  in  all;  and  from  the  bedsteads  a  dozen  men  have 


58  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

risen  up  already. — 'I  bear  witness  that  there  is  no  God 
but  God.'  What  a  splendid  cry  it  is,  the  proclamation 
of  the  creed  that  brings  men  out  of  their  beds  by  scores 
at  midnight  !  Once  again  he  thunders  through  the  same 
phrase,  shaking  with  the  vehemence  of  his  own  voice  ;  and 
then,  far  and  near,  the  night  air  rings  with  '  Mahomed  is 
the  Prophet  of  God/  It  is  as  though  he  were  flinging 
his  defiance  to  the  far-off  horizon,  where  the  summer 
lightning  plays  and  leaps  like  a  bared  sword.  Every 
Muezzin  in  the  city  is  in  full  cry,  and  some  men  on  the 
roof-tops  are  beginning  to  kneel.  A  long  pause  precedes 
the  last  cry,  'La  ilaha  Illallah/  and  the  silence  closes  up 
on  it,  as  the  ram  on  the  head  of  a  cotton-bale. 

The  Muezzin  stumbles  down  the  dark  stairway 
grumbling  in  his  beard.  He  passes  the  arch  of  the 
entrance  and  disappears.  Then  the  stifling  silence  settles 
down  over  the  City  of  Dreadful  Xight.  The  kites  on  the 
Minar  sleep  again,  snoring  more  loudly,  the  hot  breeze 
comes  up  in  puffs  and  lazy  eddies,  and  the  Moon  slides 
down  towards  the  horizon.  Seated  with  both  elbows  on 
the  parapet  of  the  tower,  one  can  watch  and  wonder  over 
that  heat-tortured  hive  till  the  dawn.  '  How  do  they 
live  down  there  ?  What  do  they  think  of  ?  When  will 
they  awake?'  More  tinkling  of  sluiced  water-pots;  faint 
jarring  of  wooden  bedsteads  moved  into  or  out  of  the 
shadows;  uncouth  music  of  stringed  instruments  softened 
by  distance  into  a  plaintive  wail,  and  one  low  grumble  of 
far-off  thunder.  In  the  courtyard  of  the  mosque  the 
janitor,  who  lay  across  the  threshold  of  the  Minar  when 
I  came  up,  starts  wildly  in  his  sleep,  throws  his  hands 
above  his  head,  mutters  something,  and  falls  back  again. 
Lulled  by  the  snoring  of  the  kites — they  snore  like  over- 
gorged  humans — I  drop  off  into  an  uneasy  doze,  conscious 
that  three  o'clock  has  struck,  and  that  there  is  a  slight — 


'THE  CITY  OP  DREADFUL  NIGHT'  59 

a  very  slight — coolness  in  the  atmosphere.  The  city  is 
absolutely  quiet  now,  but  for  some  vagrant  dog's  love- 
song.  Nothing  save  dead  heavy  sleep. 

Several  weeks  of  darkness  pass  after  this.  For  the 
Moon  has  gone  out.  The  very  dogs  are  still,  and  I 
watch  for  the  first  light  of  the  dawn  before  making  my 
way  homeward.  Again  the  noise  of  shuffling  feet. 
The  morning  call  is  about  to  begin,  and  my  night  watch 
is  over.  'Allah  ho  Akbar  !  Allah  ho  Akbar!'  The 
east  grows  gray,  and  presently  saffron;  the  dawn  wind 
comes  up  as  though  the  Muezzin  had  summoned  it;  and, 
as  one  man,  the  City  of  Dreadful  Night  rises  from  its 
bed  and  turns  its  face  towards  the  dawning  day.  With 
return  of  life  comes  return  of  sound.  First  a  low 
whisper,  then  a  deep  bass  hum;  for  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  the  entire  city  is  on  the  housetops.  My 
eyelids  weighed  down  with  the  arrears  of  long  deferred 
sleep,  I  escape  from  the  Minar  through  the  courtyard 
and  out  into  the  square  beyond,  where  the  sleepers  have 
risen,  stowed  away  the  bedsteads,  and  are  discussing  the 
morning  hookah.  The  minute's  freshness  of  the  air  has 
gone,  and  it  is  as  hot  as  at  first. 

'Will  the  Sahib,  out  of  his  kindness,  make  room?' 
What  is  it?  Something  borne  on  men's  shoulders  comes 
by  in  the  half-light,  and  I  stand  back.  A  woman's 
corpse  going  down  to  the  burning-ghat,  and  a  bystander 
says,  'She  died  at  midnight  from  the  heat.'  So  the  city 
was  of  Death  as  well  as  Night  after  all. 


GEOKGIE  POKGIE ' 

Georgie  Porgie,  pudding  and  pie, 
Kissed  the  girls  and  made  them  cry. 
When  the  girls  came  out  to  play 
Georgie  Porgie  ran  away. 

IF  you  will  admit  that  a  man  has  no  right  to  enter  his 
drawing-room  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  housemaid 
is  setting  things  right  and  clearing  away  the  dust,  you 
will  concede  that  civilised  people  who  e;it  out  of  china 
and  own  card-cases  have  no  right  to  apply  their  standard 
of  right  and  wrong  to  an  unsettled  land.  When  the 
place  is  made  fit  for  their  reception,  by  those  men  who 
are  told  off  to  the  work,  they  can  come  up,  bringing  in 
their  trunks  their  own  society  and  the  Decalogue,  and 
all  the  other  apparatus.  Where  the  Queen's  Law  does 
not  carry,  it  is  irrational  to  expect  an  observance  of  other 
and  weaker  rules.  The  men  who  run  ahead  of  the  cars 
of  Decency  and  Propriety,  and  make  the  jungle  ways 
straight,  cannot  be  judged  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
stay-at-home  folk  of  the  ranks  of  the  regular  Tchin. 

Not  many  months  ago  the  Queen's  Law  stopped  a  few 
miles  north  of  Thayetmyo  on  the  Irrawaddy.  There  was 
no  very  strong  Public  Opinion  up  to  that  limit,  but  it 
existed  to  keep  men  in  order.  When  the  Government 
said  that  the  Queen's  Law  must  carry  up  to  Bhamo  and 
the  Chinese  border  the  order  was  given,  and  some  men 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMII.LAN  &  Co. 


GEORGIE  PORGIE  61 

whose  desire  was  to  be  ever  a  little  in  advance  of  the  rush 
of  Kespectability  flocked  forward  with  the  troops.  These 
were  the  men  who  could  never  pass  examinations,  and 
would  have  been  too  pronounced  in  their  ideas  for  the 
administration  of  bureau-worked  Provinces.  The  Supreme 
Government  stepped  in  as  soon  as  might  be,  with  codes 
and  regulations,  and  all  but  reduced  New  Burma  to  the 
dead  Indian  level;  but  there  was  a  short  time  during 
which  strong  men  were  necessary  and  ploughed  a  field  for 
themselves. 

Among  the  fore-runners  of  Civilisation  was  Georgie 
Porgie,  reckoned  by  all  who  knew  him  a  strong  man. 
He  held  an  appointment  in  Lower  Burma  when  the  order 
came  to  break  the  Frontier,  and  his  friends  called  him 
Georgie  Porgie  because  of  the  singularly  Burmese-like 
manner  in  which  he  sang  a  song  whose  first  line  is  some- 
thing like  the  words  '  Georgie  Porgie.'  Most  men  who  have 
been  in  Burma  will  know  the  song.  It  means:  'Puff, 
puff,  puff,  puff,  great  steamboat ! '  Georgie  sang  it  to  his 
banjo,  and  his  friends  shouted  with  delight,  so  that  you 
could  hear  them  far  away  in  the  teak-forest. 

When  he  went  to  Upper  Burma  he  had  no  special 
regard  for  God  or  Man,  but  he  knew  how  to  make  him- 
self respected,  and  to  carry  out  the  mixed  Military-Civil 
duties  that  fell  to  most  men's  share  in  those  months. 
He  did  his  office  work  and  entertained,  now  and  again, 
the  detachments  of  fever-shaken  soldiers  who  blundered 
through  his  part  of  the  world  in  search  of  a  flying  party 
of  dacoits.  Sometimes  he  turned  out  and  dressed  down 
dacoits  on  his  own  account ;  for  the  country  was  still 
smouldering  and  would  blaze  when  least  expected.  He 
enjoyed  these  charivaris,  but  the  dacoits  were  not  so 
amused.  All  the  officials  who  came  in  contact  with  him 
departed  with  the  idea  that  Georgie  Porgie  was  a  valuable 


62  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

person,  well  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  and,  on  that 
belief,  he  was  left  to  his  own  devices. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  months  he  wearied  of  his  solitude, 
and  cast  about  for  company  and  refinement.  The  Queen's 
Law  had  hardly  begun  to  be  felt  in  the  country,  and 
Public  Opinion,  which  is  more  powerful  than  the  Queen's 
Law,  had  yet  to  come.  Also,  there  was  a  custom  in  the 
country  which  allowed  a  white  man  to  take  to  himself  a 
wife  of  the  Daughters  of  Ileth  upon  due  payment.  The 
marriage  was  not  quite  so  binding  as  is  the  nikkali 
ceremony  among  Mahomedans,  but  the  wife  was  very 
pleasant. 

When  all  our  troops  are  back  from  Burma  there  will 
be  a  proverb  in  their  mouths,  'As  thrifty  as  a  Burmese 
wife,'  and  pretty  English  ladies  will  wonder  what  in  the 
world  it  means. 

The  headman  of  the  village  next  to  Georgie  Porgie's 
post  had  a  fair  daughter  who  had  seen  Georgie  Porgie 
and  loved  him  from  afar.  When  news  went  abroad  that 
the  Englishman  with  the  heavy  hand  who  lived  in  the 
stockade  was  looking  for  a  housekeeper,  the  headman 
came  in  and  explained  that,  for  five  hundred  rupees 
down,  he  would  entrust  his  daughter  to  Georgie  Porgie's 
keeping,  to  be  maintained  in  all  honour,  respect,  and  com- 
fort, with  pretty  dresses,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country.  This  thing  was  done,  and  Georgie  Porgie  never 
repented  it. 

He  found  his  rough-and-tumble  house  put  straight 
and  made  comfortable,  his  hitherto  unchecked  expenses 
cut  down  by  one  half,  and  himself  petted  and  made  much 
of  by  his  new  acquisition,  who  sat  at  the  head  of  his 
table  and  sang  songs  to  him  and  ordered  his  Madrassee 
servants  about,  and  was  in  every  way  as  sweet  and  merry 
and  honest  and  winning  a  little  woman  as  the  most 


GEORGIE  PORGIE  63 

exacting  of  bachelors  could  have  desired.  No  race,  men 
say  who  know,  produces  such  good  wives  and  heads  of 
households  as  the  Burmese.  When  the  next  detachment 
tramped  by  on  the  war-path  the  Subaltern  in  Command 
found  at  Georgie  Porgie's  table  a  hostess  to  be  deferential 
to,  a  woman  to  be  treated  in  every  way  as  one  occupying 
an  assured  position.  When  he  gathered  his  men  together 
next  dawn  and  replunged  into  the  jungle  he  thought  re- 
gretfully of  the  nice  little  dinner  and  the  pretty  face,  and 
envied  Georgie  Porgie  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Yet 
he  was  engaged  to  a  girl  at  Home,  and  that  is  how  some 
men  are  constructed. 

The  Burmese  girl's  name  was  not  a  pretty  one;  but  as 
she  was  promptly  christened  Georgina  by  Georgie  Porgie, 
the  blemish  did  not  matter.  Georgie  Porgie  thought  well 
of  the  petting  and  the  general  comfort,  and  vowed  that 
he  had  never  spent  five  hundred  rupees  to  a  better  end. 

After  three  months  of  domestic  life,  a  great  idea 
struck  him.  Matrimony — English  matrimony — could  not 
be  such  a  bad  thing  after  all.  If  he  were  so  thoroughly 
comfortable  at  the  Back  of  Beyond  with  this  Burmese 
girl  who  smoked  cheroots,  how  much  more  comfortable 
would  he  be  with  a  sweet  English  maiden  who  would  not 
smoke  cheroots,  and  would  play  upon  a  piano  instead  of 
a  banjo?  Also  he  had  a  desire  to  return  to  his  kind,  to 
hear  a  Band  once  more,  and  to  feel  how  it  felt  to  wear  a 
dress-suit  again.  Decidedly,  Matrimony  would  be  a  very 
good  thing.  He  thought  the  matter  out  at  length  of 
evenings,  while  Georgina  sang  to  him,  or  asked  him  why 
he  was  so  silent,  and  whether  she  had  done  anything  to 
offend  him.  As  he  thought,  he  smoked,  and  as  he  smoked 
he  looked  at  Georgina,  and  in  his  fancy  turned  her  into 
a  fair,  thrifty,  amusing,  merry,  little  English  girl,  with 
hair  coming  low  down  on  her  forehead,  and  perhaps  a 


64  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

cigarette  between  her  lips.  Certainly,  not  a  big,  thick, 
Burma  cheroot,  of  the  brand  that  Georgina  smoked,  lie 
would  wed  a  girl  with  Georgina's  eyes  and  most  of  her 
ways.  But  not  all.  She  could  be  improved  upon. 
Then  he  blew  thick  smoke-wreaths  through  his  nostrils 
and  stretched  himself.  He  would  taste  marriage.  Geor- 
gina had  helped  him  to  save  money,  and  there  were  six 
months'  leave  due  to  him. 

'  See  here,  little  woman,'  he  said,  '  we  must  put  by 
more  money  for  these  next  three  months.  I  want  it.' 
That  was  a  direct  slur  on  Georgina's  housekeeping;  for  she 
prided  herself  on  her  thrift ;  but  since  her  God  wanted 
money  she  would  do  her  best. 

'You  want  money?'  she  said  with  a  little  laugh.  'I 
have  money.  Look!'  She  ran  to  her  own  room  and 
fetched  out  a  small  bag  of  rupees.  '  Of  all  that  you  give 
me,  I  keep  back  some.  See!  One  hundred  and  seven 
rupees.  Can  you  want  more  money  than  that?  Take 
it.  It  is  my  pleasure  if  you  use  it.'  She  spread  out  the 
money  on  the  table  and  pushed  it  towards  him,  with  her 
quick,  little,  pale  yellow  fingers. 

Georgie  Porgie  never  referred  to  economy  in  the  house- 
hold again. 

Three  months  later,  after  the  dispatch  and  receipt  of 
several  mysterious  letters  which  Georgina  could  not 
understand,  and  hated  for  that  reason,  Georgie  Porgie 
said  that  he  was  going  away  and  she  must  return  to  her 
father's  house  and  stay  there. 

Georgina  wept.  She  would  go  with  her  God  from  the 
world's  end  to  the  world's  end.  Why  should  she  leave 
him  ?  She  loved  him. 

'  I  am  only  going  to  Rangoon,'  said  Georgie  Porgie. 
'I  shall  be  back  in  a  month,  but  it  is  safer  to  stay  with 
your  father.  I  will  leave  you  t\vo  hundred  rupees.' 


GEORGIE  PORGIE  65 

'If  you  go  for  a  month,  what  need  of  two  hundred  ? 
Fifty  i>re  more  than  enough.  There  is  some  evil  here. 
Do  not  go,  or  at  least  let  me  go  with  you.' 

Georgie  Porgie  does  not  like  to  remember  that  scene 
even  at  this  date.  In  the  end  he  got  rid  of  Georgimi  by 
a  compromise  of  seventy-five  rupees.  She  would  not  take 
more.  Then  he  went  by  steamer  and  rail  to  Kangoon. 

The  mysterious  letters  had  granted  him  six  months' 
leave.  The  actual  flight  and  an  idea  that  he  might  have 
been  treacherous  hurt  severely  at  the  time,  but  as  soon  as 
the  big  steamer  was  well  out  into  the  blue,  things  were 
easier,  and  Georgina's  face,  and  the  queer  little  stockaded 
house,  and  the  memory  of  the  rushes  of  shouting  dacoits 
by  night,  the  cry  and  struggle  of  the  first  man  that  he  hud 
ever  killed  with  his  own  hand,  and  a  hundred  other  more 
intimate  things,  faded  and  faded  out  of  Georgie  Porgie's 
heart,  and  the  vision  of  approaching  England  took  its 
place.  The  steamer  was  full  of  men  on  leave,  all  ram- 
pantly jovial  souls  who  had  shaken  off  the  dust  and  sweat 
of  Upper  Burma  and  were  as  merry  as  schoolboys.  They 
helped  Georgie  Porgie  to  forget. 

Then  came  England  with  its  luxuries  and  decencies 
and  comforts,  and  Georgie  Porgie  walked  in  a  pleasant 
dream  upon  pavements  of  which  he  had  nearly  forgotten 
the  ring,  wondering  why  men  in  their  senses  ever  left 
Town.  He  accepted  his  keen  delight  in  his  furlough  as  the 
reward  of  his  services.  Providence  further  arranged  for  him 
another  and  greater  delight — all  the  pleasures  of  a  quiet 
Engjjsh  wooing,  quite  different  from  the  brazen  businesses 
of  the  East,  when  half  the  community  stand  back  and 
bet  on  the  result,  and  the  other  half  wonder  what  Mrs. 
So-and-So  will  say  to  it. 

It  was  a  pleasant  girl  and  a  perfect  summer,  and  a  big 
ccnin try-house  near  Petworth  where  there  are  acres  and 


G6  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

acres  of  purple  heather  and  high-grassed  water-meadows 
to  wander  through.  Georgie  Porgie  felt  that  he  had  at 
last  found  something  worth  the  living  for,  and  naturally 
assumed  that  the  next  thing  to  do  was  to  ask  the  girl  to 
share  his  life  in  India.  She,  in  her  ignorance,  was  willing 
to  go.  On  this  occasion  there  was  no  bartering  with  a 
village  headman.  There  was  a  fine  middle-class  wedding 
in  the  country,  with  a  stout  Papa  and  a  weeping  Mamma, 
and  a  best-man  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  six  snub- 
nosed  girls  from  the  Sunday  School  to  throw  roses  on  the 
path  between  the  tombstones  up  to  the  Church  door. 
The  local  paper  described  the  affair  at  great  length,  even 
down  to  giving  the  hymns  in  full.  But  that  was  because 
the  Direction  were  starving  for  want  of  material. 

Then  came  a  honeymoon  at  Arundel,  and  the  Mamma 
wept  copiously  before  she  allowed  her  one  daughter  to 
sail  away  to  India  under  the  care  of  Georgie  Porgie  the 
Bridegroom.  Beyond  any  question,  Georgie  Porgie  was 
immensely  fond  of  his  wife,  and  she  was  devoted  to  him 
as  the  best  and  greatest  man  in  the  world.  When  he  re- 
ported himself  at  Bombay  he  felt  justified  in  demanding 
a  good  station  for  his  wife's  sake;  and,  because  he  had 
made  a  little  mark  in  Burma  and  was  beginning  to  be 
appreciated,  they  allowed  him  nearly  all  that  he  asked 
for,  and  posted  him  to  a  station  which  we  will  call 
Sutrain.  It  stood  upon  several  hills,  and  was  styled 
officially  a  '  Sanitarium,'  for  the  good  reason  that  the 
drainage  was  utterly  neglected.  Here  Georgie  Porgie 
settled  down,  and  found  married  life  come  very  naturally 
to  him.  He  did  not  rave,  as  do  many  bridegrooms,  over 
the  strangeness  and  delight  of  seeing  his  own  true  love 
sitting  down  to  breakfast  with  him  every  morning  'as 
though  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world/ 
*  He  had  been  there  before/  as  the  Americans  say,  and, 


GEORGIE  PORGIE  67 

checking  the  merits  of  his  own  present  Grace  by  those  of 
Georgina,  he  was  more  and  more  inclined  to  think  that 
he  had  done  well. 

But  there  was  no  peace  or  comfort  across  the  Bay  of 
Bengal,  under  the  teak-trees  where  Georgina  lived  with 
her  father,  waiting  for  Georgie  Porgie  to  return.  The 
headman  was  old,  and  remembered  the  war  of  '51.  He 
had  been  to  Rangoon,  and  knew  something  of  the  ways  of 
the  Kullahs.  Sitting  in  front  of  his  door  in  the  evenings, 
he  taught  Georgina  a  dry  philosophy  which  did  not  con- 
sole her  in  the  least. 

The  trouble  was  that  she  loved  Georgie  Porgie  just  as 
much  as  the  French  girl  in  the  English  History  books 
loved  the  priest  whose  head  was  broken  by  the  King's 
bullies.  One  day  she  disappeared  from  the  village,  with 
all  the  rupees  that  Georgie  Porgie  had  given  her,  and  a 
very  small  smattering  of  English  —  also  gained  from 
Georgie  Porgie. 

The  headman  was  angry  at  first,  but  lit  a  fresh 
cheroot  and  said  something  uncomplimentary  about  the 
sex  in  general.  Georgina  had  started  on  a  search  for 
Georgie  Porgie,  who  might  be  in  Rangoon,  or  across  the 
Black  Water,  or  dead,  for  aught  that  she  knew.  Chance 
favoured  her.  An  old  Sikh  policeman  told  her  that 
Georgie  Porgie  had  crossed  the  Black  Water.  She  took  a 
steerage-passage  from  Rangoon  and  went  to  Calcutta; 
keeping  the  secret  of  her  search  to  herself. 

In  India  every  trace  of  her  was  lost  for  six  weeks, 
and  no  one  knows  what  trouble  of  heart  she  must  have 
undergone. 

She  reappeared,  four  hundred  miles  north  of  Calcutta, 
steadily  heading  northwards,  very  worn  and  haggard,  but 
very  fixed  in  her  determination  to  find  Georgie  Porgie. 
She  could  not  understand  the  language  of  the  people; 


08  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

but  India  is  infinitely  charitable,  and  the  women-folk 
along  the  Grand  Trunk  gave  her  food.  Something  made 
her  believe  that  (Jeorgie  Porgie  was  to  be  found  at  the 
end  of  that  pitiless  road.  She  may  have  seen  a  sepoy  who 
knew  him  in  Burma,  but  of  this  no  one  can  be  certain. 
At  last,  she  found  a  regiment  on  the  line  of  march,  and 
met  there  one  of  the  many  subalterns  whom  Georgie 
Porgie  had  invited  to  dinner  in  the  far-off,  old  days  of  the 
dacoit-hunting.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of  amuse- 
ment among  the  tents  when  Georgina  threw  herself  at  the 
man's  feet  and  began  to  cry.  There  was  no  amusement 
when  her  story  was  told;  but  a  collection  was  made,  and 
that  was  more  to  the  point.  One  of  the  subalterns  knew 
of  Georgie  Porgie's  whereabouts,  but  not  of  his  marriage. 
So  he  told  Georgina  and  she  went  her  way  joyfully  to  the 
north,  in  a  railway  carriage  where  there  was  rest  for  tired 
feet  and  shade  for  a  dusty  little  head.  The  marches 
from  the  train  through  the  hills  into  Sutrain  were  trying, 
but  Georgina  had  money,  and  families  journeying  in 
bullock-carts  gave  her  help.  It  was  an  almost  miraculous 
journey,  and  Georgina  felt  sure  that  the  good  spirits  of 
Burma  were  looking  after  her.  The  hill-road  to  Sutrain 
is  a  chilly  stretch,  and  Georgina  caught  a  bad  cold.  Still 
there  was  Georgie  Porgie  a,t  the  end  of  all  the  trouble  to 
take  her  up  in  his  arms  and  pet  her,  as  he  used  to  do  in 
the  old  days  when  the  stockade  was  shut  for  the  night  and 
he  had  approved  of  the  evening  meal-  Georgina  went 
forward  as  fast  as  she  could;  and  her  good  spirits  did  her 
one  last  favour. 

An  Englishman  stopped  her,  in  the  twilight,  just  at 
the  turn  of  the  road  into  Sutrain,  saying,  '  Good  Heavens  ! 
What  are  you  doing  here  ?' 

He  was  Gillis,  the  man  who  had  been  Georgie  Porgie's 
assistant  in  Upper  Burma,  and  who  occupied  the  next 


GEORGIE  PORGIE  69 

post  to  Georgie  Porgie's  in  the  jungle.  Georgie  Porgie 
had  applied  to  have  him  to  work  with  at  Sutrain  because 
he  liked  him. 

'  I  have  come,'  said  Georgina  simply.  '  It  was  such  a 
long  way,  and  I  have  been  months  in  coming.  Where  is 
his  house  ? ' 

Gillis  gasped.  He  had  seen  enough  of  Georgina  in 
the  old  times  to  know  that  explanations  would  be  useless. 
You  cannot  explain  things  to  the  Oriental.  You  must 
show. 

'I'll  take  you  there/ said  Gillis,  and  he  led  Georgina 
off  the  road,  up  the  cliff,  by  a  little  pathway,  to  the  back 
of  a  house  set  on  a  platform  cut  into  the  hillside. 

The  lamps  were  just  lit,  but  the  curtains  were  not 
drawn.  'Now  look,'  said  Gillis,  stopping  in  front  of  the 
drawing-room  window.  Georgina  looked  and  saw  Georgie 
Porgie  and  the  Bride. 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  her  hair,  which  had  come 
out  of  its  top-knot  and  was  straggling  about  her  face. 
She  tried  to  set  her  ragged  dress  in  order,  but  the  dress 
was  past  pulling  straight,  and  she  coughed  a  queer  little 
cough,  for  she  really  had  taken  a  very  bad  cold.  Gillis 
looked,  too,  but  while  Georgina  only  looked  at  the  Bride 
once,  turning  her  eyes  always  on  Georgie  Porgie,  Gillis 
looked  at  the  Bride  all  the  time. 

'What  are  you  going  to  do?'  said  Gillis,  who  held 
Georgina  by  the  wrist,  in  case  of  any  unexpected  rush  into 
the  lamplight.  'Will  you  go  in  and  tell  that  English 
woman  that  you  lived  with  her  husband?' 

'  No,'  said  Georgina  faintly.  '  Let  me  go.  I  am  going 
away.  I  swear  that  I  am  going  away.'  She  twisted  her- 
self free  and  ran  off  into  the  dark. 

'  Poor  little  beast!'  said  (lillis,  dropping  on  to  the  main 
road.  '  I'd  ha'  given  her  something  to  get  back  to  Burma 


TO  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

with.  What  a  narrow  shave  though!  And  that  angel 
would  never  have  forgiven  it.' 

This  seems  to  prove  that  the  devotion  of  Gillis  was 
not  entirely  due  to  his  affection  for  Georgie  Porgie. 

The  Bride  and  the  Bridegroom  came  out  into  the 
verandah  after  dinner,  in  order  that  the  smoke  of  Georgie 
Porgie's  cheroots  might  not  hang  in  the  new  drawing-room 
curtains. 

*  What  is  that  noise  down  there  ? '  said  the  Bride. 
Both  listened. 

'  Oh/  said  Georgie  Porgie,  '  I  suppose  some  brute  of  a 
hillman  has  been  beating  his  wife.' 

'  Beating — his — wife  !  How  ghastly  ! '  said  the  Bride. 
'Fancy  your  beating  me!'  She  slipped  an  arm  round 
her  husband's  waist,  and,  leaning  her  head  against  his 
shoulder,  looked  out  across  the  cloud-filled  valley  in  deep 
content  and  security. 

But  it  was  Georgina  crying,  all  by  herself,  down  the 
hillside,  among  the  stones  of  the  water-course  where  the 
washermen  wash  the  clothes. 


NABOTH ' 

THIS  was  how  it  happened  ;  and  the  truth  is  also  an 
allegory  of  Empire. 

I  met  him  at  the  corner  of  my  garden,  an  empty 
basket  on  his  head,  and  an  unclean  cloth  round  his  loins. 
That  was  all  the  property  to  which  Naboth  had  the 
shadow  of  a  claim  when  I  first  saw  him.  He  opened 
our  acquaintance  by  begging.  He  was  very  thin  and 
showed  nearly  as  many  ribs  as  his  basket ;  and  he  told 
me  a  long  story  about  fever  and  a  lawsuit,  and  an  iron 
cauldron  that  had  been  seized  by  the  court  in  execution 
of  a  decree.  I  put  my  hand  into  my  pocket  to  help 
Naboth,  as  kings  of  the  East  have  helped  alien  adven- 
turers to  the  loss  of  their  kingdoms.  A  rupee  had 
hidden  in  my  waistcoat  lining.  I  never  knew  it  was 
there,  and  gave  the  trove  to  Naboth  as  a  direct  gift  from 
Heaven.  He  replied  that  I  was  the  only  legitimate 
Protector  of  the  Poor  he  had  ever  known. 

Next  morning  he  reappeared,  a  little  fatter  in  the 
round,  a7id  curled  himself  into  knots  in  the  front  ver- 
andah. He  said  I  was  his  father  and  his  mother,  and 
the  direct  descendant  of  all  the  gods  in  his  Pantheon, 
besides  controlling  the  destinies  of  the  universe.  lie 
himself  was  but  a  sweetmeat-seller,  and  much  less 
important  than  the  dirt  under  my  feet.  I  had  heard 
this  sort  of  thing  before,  so  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted. 

1  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMIU.AX  &  Co. 


72  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

My  rupee,  quoth  Naboth,  had  raised  him  to  the  ever- 
lasting heavens,  and  he  wished  to  prefer  a  request.  He 
wished  to  establish  a  sweetmeat-pitch  near  the  house  of 
his  benefactor,  to  gaze  on  my  revered  countenance  as  I 
went  to  and  fro  illumining  the  world.  I  was  graciously 
pleased  to  give  permission,  and  he  went  away  with  his 
head  between  his  knees. 

Now  at  the  far  end  of  my  garden,  the  ground  slopes 
toward  the  public  road,  and  the  slope  is  crowned  with  a 
thick  shrubbery.  There  is  a  short  carriage-road  from  the 
house  to  the  Mall,  which  passes  close  to  the  shrubbery. 
Next  afternoon  I  saw  that  Naboth  had  seated  himself  at 
the  bottom  of  the  slope,  down  in  the  dust  of  the  public 
road,  and  in  the  full  glare  of  the  sun,  with  a  starved 
basket  of  greasy  sweets  in  front  of  him.  He  had  gone 
into  trade  once  more  on  the  strength  of  my  munificent 
donation,  and  the  ground  was  as  Paradise  by  my  honoured 
favour.  Remember,  there  was  only  Naboth,  his  basket, 
the  sunshine,  and  the  gray  dust  when  the  sap  of  my 
Empire  first  began. 

Next  day  he  had  moved  himself  up  the  slope  nearer 
to  my  shrubbery,  and  waved  a  palm-leaf  fan  to  keep  the 
flies  off  the  sweets.  So  I  judged  that  he  must  have  done 
a  fair  trade. 

Four  days  later  I  noticed  that  he  had  backed  himself 
and  his  basket  under  the  shadow  of  the  shrubbery,  and 
had  tied  an  Isabella-coloured  rag  between  two  branches 
in  order  to  make  more  shade.  There  were  plenty  of 
sweets  in  his  basket.  I  thought  that  trade  must  certainly 
be  looking  up. 

Seven  weeks  later  the  Government  took  up  a  plot  of 
ground  for  a  Chief  Court  close  to  the  end  of  my  com- 
pound, and  employed  nearly  four  hundred  coolies  on  the 
foundations.  Naboth  bought  a  blue  and  white  striped 


NABOTH  73 

blanket,  a  brass  lamp-stand,  and  a  small  boy,  to  cope 
with  the  rush  of  trade,  which  was  tremendous. 

Five  days  later  he  bought  a  huge,  fat,  red-backed 
account-book,  and  a  glass  inkstand.  Thus  I  saw  that 
the  coolies  had  been  getting  into  his  debt,  and  that  com- 
merce was  increasing  on  legitimate  lines  of  credit.  Also 
I  saw  that  the  one  basket  had  grown  into  three,  and  that 
Naboth  had  backed  and  hacked  into  the  shrubbery,  and 
made  himself  a  nice  little  clearing  for  the  proper  display 
of  the  basket,  the  blanket,  the  books,  and  the  boy. 

One  week  and  five  days  later  he  had  built  a  mud  fire- 
place in  the  clearing,  and  the  fat  account-book  was  over- 
flowing. He  said  that  God  created  few  Englishmen  of 
my  kind,  and  that  I  was  the  incarnation  of  all  human 
virtues.  He  offered  me  some  of  his  sweets  as  tribute, 
and  by  accepting  these  I  acknowledged  him  as  my  feuda- 
tory under  the  skirt  of  my  protection. 

Three  weeks  later  I  noticed  that  the  boy  was  in  the 
habit  of  cooking  Naboth's  mid-day  meal  for  him,  and 
Naboth  was  beginning  to  grow  a  stomach.  He  had 
hacked  away  more  of  my  shrubbery,  and  owned  another 
and  a  fatter  account-book. 

Eleven  weeks  later  Naboth  had  eaten  his  way  nearly 
through  that  shrubbery,  and  there  was  a  reed  hut  with  a 
bedstead  outside  it,  standing  in  the  little  glade  that  he 
had  eroded.  Two  dogs  and  a  baby  slept  on  the  bedstead. 
So  I  fancied  Naboth  had  taken  a  wife.  He  said  that  he 
had,  by  my  favour,  done  this  thing,  and  that  I  was 
several  times  finer  than  Krishna. 

Six  weeks  and  two  days  later  a  mud  wall  had  grown 
up  at  the  back  of  the  hut.  There  were  fowls  in  front 
and  it  smelt  a  little.  The  Municipal  Secretary  said  that 
a  cess-pool  was  forming  in  the  public  road  from  the 
drainage  of  my  compound,  and  that  I  must  take  steps  to 


74  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

clear  it  away.  I  spoke  to  Naboth.  He  said  I  was  Lord 
Paramount  of  his  earthly  concerns,  and  the  garden  was 
all  my  own  property,  and  sent  me  some  more  sweets  in  a 
second-hand  duster. 

Two  months  later  a  coolie  bricklayer  was  killed  in  a 
scuffle  that  took  place  opposite  Naboth's  Vineyard.  The 
Inspector  of  Police  said  it  was  a  serious  case ;  went  into 
my  servants'  quarters ;  insulted  my  butler's  wife,  and 
wanted  to  arrest  my  butler.  The  curious  thing  about  the 
murder  was  that  most  of  the  coolies  were  drunk  at  the 
time.  Naboth  pointed  out  that  my  name  was  a  strong 
shield  between  him  and  his  enemies,  and  he  expected  that 
another  baby  would  be  born  to  him  shortly. 

Four  months  later  the  hut  was  all  mud  walls,  very 
solidly  built,  and  Naboth  had  used  most  of  my  shrubbery 
for  his  five  goats.  A  silver  watch  and  an  aluminium  chain 
shone  upon  his  very  round  stomach.  My  servants  were 
alarmingly  drunk  several  times,  and  used  to  waste  the 
day  with  Naboth  when  they  got  the  chance.  I  spoke  to 
Naboth.  He  said,  by  my  favour  and  the  glory  of  my 
countenance,  he  would  make  all  his  women-folk  ladies, 
and  that  if  any  one  hinted  that  he  was  running  an  illicit 
still  under  the  shadow  of  the  tamarisks,  why,  I,  his 
Suzerain,  was  to  prosecute. 

A  week  later  he  hired  a  man  to  make  several  dozen 
square  yards  of  trellis-work  to  put  round  the  back  of  his 
hut,  that  his  women-folk  might  be  screened  from  the 
public  gaze.  The  man  went  away  in  the  evening,  and 
left  his  day's  work  to  pave  the  short  cut  from  the  public 
road  to  my  house.  I  was  driving  home  in  the  dusk,  and 
turned  the  corner  by  Naboth's  Vineyard  quickly.  The 
next  thing  I  knew  was  that  the  horses  of  the  phaeton 
were  stamping  and  plunging  in  the  strongest  sort  of 
bamboo  net-work.  Both  beasts  came  down.  One  rose 


NABOTH  75 

with  nothing  more  than  chipped  knees.  The  other  was 
so  badly  kicked  that  I  was  forced  to  shoot  him. 

Naboth  is  gone  now,  and  his  hut  is  ploughed  into  its 
native  mud  with  sweetmeats  instead  of  salt  for  a  sign 
that  the  place  is  accursed.  I  have  built  a  summer-house 
to  overlook  the  end  of  the  garden,  and  it  is  as  a  fort  on 
my  frontier  whence  I  guard  my  Empire. 

I  know  exactly  how  Ahab  felt.  He  has  been  shame- 
fully misrepresented  in  the  Scriptures. 


THE  DREAM  OF  DUNCAN  BARRENNESS 

LIKE  Mr.  Buuyan  of  old,  I,  Duncan  Parrenness,  Writer 
to  the  Most  Honourable  the  East  India  Company,  in  this 
God-forgotten  city  of  Calcutta,  have  dreamed  a  dream, 
and  never  since  that  Kitty  my  mare  fell  lame  have  I 
been  so  troubled.  Therefore,  lest  I  should  forget  my 
dream,  I  have  made  shift  to  set  it  down  here.  Though 
Heaven  knows  how  unhandy  the  pen  is  to  me  who  was 
always  readier  with  sword  than  ink-horn  when  I  left 
London  two  long  years  since. 

When  the  Governor-General's  great  dance  (that  he 
gives  yearly  at  the  latter  end  of  November)  was  finisht, 
I  had  gone  to  mine  own  room  which  looks  over  that 
sullen,  un-English  stream,  the  Hoogly,  scarce  so  sober  as 
I  might  have  been.  Now,  roaring  drunk  in  the  West  is 
but  fuddled  in  the  East,  and  I  was  drunk  Nor'-Nor' 
Easterly  as  Mr.  Shakespeare  might  have  said.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  my  liquor,  the  cool  night  winds  (though  I  have 
heard  that  they  breed  chills  and  fluxes  innumerable) 
sobered  me  somewhat ;  and  I  remembered  that  I  had 
been  but  a  little  wrung  and  wasted  by  all  the  sicknesses 
of  the  past  four  months,  whereas  those  young  bloods  that 
came  eastward  with  me  in  the  same  ship  had  been  all,  a 
month  back,  planted  to  Eternity  in  the  foul  soil  north  of 
Writers'  Buildings.  So  then,  I  thanked  God  mistily 
(though,  to  my  shame,  I  never  kneeled  down  to  do  so)  for 

«  Copyright,  1891,  by  MACMILLAN  &  Co. 


THE  DREAM  OF  DUNCAN  PARRENNESS     77 

license  to  live,  at  least  till  March  should  be  upon  us  again. 
Indeed,  we  that  were  alive  (and  our  number  was  less  by 
far  than  those  who  had  gone  to  their  last  account  in  the 
hot  weather  late  past)  had  made  very  merry  that  evening, 
by  the  ramparts  of  the  Fort,  over  this  kindness  of  Provi- 
dence; though  our  jests  were  neither  witty  nor  such  as  I 
should  have  liked  my  Mother  to  hear. 

When  I  had  lain  down  (or  rather  thrown  me  on  my 
bed)  and  the  fumes  of  my  drink  had  a  little  cleared  away,  I 
found  that  I  could  get  no  sleep  for  thinking  of  a  thousand 
things  that  were  better  left  alone.  First,  and  it  was  a 
long  time  since  I  had  thought  of  her,  the  sweet  face  of 
Kitty  Somerset,  drifted,  as  it  might  have  been  drawn  in 
a  picture,  across  the  foot  of  my  bed,  so  plainly,  that  1 
almost  thought  she  had  been  present  in  the  body.  Then 
I  remembered  how  she  drove  me  to  this  accursed  country 
to  get  rich,  that  I  might  the  more  quickly  marry  her,  our 
parents  on  both  sides  giving  their  consent ;  and  then  ho\v 
she  thought  better  (or  worse  may  be)  of  her  troth,  and 
wed  Tom  Sanderson  but  a  short  three  months  after  I  had 
sailed.  From  Kitty  I  fell  a-musing  on  Mrs.  Vansuythen, 
a  tall  pale  woman  with  violet  eyes  that  had  come  to  Cal- 
cutta from  the  Dutch  Factory  at  Chinsura,  and  had  set 
all  our  young  men,  and  not  a  few  of  the  factors,  by  the 
ears.  Some  of  our  ladies,  it  is  true,  said  that  she  had 
never  a  husband  or  marriage-lines  at  all ;  but  women,  and 
specially  those  who  have  led  only  indifferent  good  lives 
themselves,  are  cruel  hard  one  on  another.  Besides, 
Mrs.  Vansuythen  was  far  prettier  than  them  all.  She  had 
been  most  gracious  to  me  at  the  Governor-General's  rout, 
and  indeed  I  was  looked  upon  by  all  as  her  }>r<>n.c  c/ti'i-tifii'r 
— which  is  French  for  a  much  worse  word.  Xo\v,  whether 
I  cared  so  much  as  the  scratch  of  a  pin  for  this  same 
Mrs.  Vansuythen  (albeit  I  had  vowed  eternal  love  three 


78  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

days  after  we  met)  I  knew  not  then  nor  did  till  later  on; 
but  mine  own  pride,  and  a  skill  in  the  small  sword  that 
no  man  in  Calcutta  could  equal,  kept  me  in  her  affections. 
So  that  I  believed  I  worshipt  her. 

When  I  had  dismist  her  violet  eyes  from  my  thoughts, 
my  reason  reproacht  me  for  ever  having  followed  her  at 
all;  and  I  saw  how  the  one  year  that  I  had  lived  in  this 
land  had  so  burnt  and  seared  my  mind  with  the  flames 
of  a  thousand  bad  passions  and  desires,  that  I  had  aged 
ten  months  for  each  one  in  the  Devil's  school.  Whereat 
I  thought  of  my  Mother  for  a  while,  and  was  very 
penitent:  making  in  my  sinful  tipsy  mood  a  thousand 
vows  of  reformation — all  since  broken,  I  fear  me,  again 
and  again.  To-morrow,  says  I  to  myself,  I  will  live  cleanly 
for  ever.  And  I  smiled  dizzily  (the  liquor  being  still 
strong  in  me)  to  think  of  the  dangers  I  had  escaped  ;  and 
built  all  manner  of  fine  Castles  in  Spain,  whereof  a 
shadowy  Kitty  Somerset  that  had  the  violet  eyes  and  the 
sweet  slow  speech  of  Mrs.  Vansuythen,  was  always  Queen. 

Lastly,  a  very  fine  and  magnificent  courage  (that 
doubtless  had  its  birth  in  Mr.  Hastings'  Madeira)  grew 
upon  me,  till  it  seemed  that  I  could  become  Governor- 
General,  Nawab,  Prince,  ay,  even  the  Great  Mogul  him- 
self, by  the  mere  wishing  of  it.  Wherefore,  taking  my 
first  steps,  random  and  unstable  enough,  towards  my  new 
kingdom,  I  kickt  my  servants  sleeping  without  till  they 
howled  and  ran  from  me,  and  called  Heaven  and  Earth 
to  witness  that  I,  Duncan  Parrenness,  was  a  Writer  in 
the  service  of  the  Company  and  afraid  of  no  man.  Then, 
seeing  that  neither  the  Moon  nor  the  Great  Bear  were 
minded  to  accept  my  challenge,  I  lay  down  again  and 
must  have  fallen  asleep. 

I  was  waked  presently  by  my  last  words  repeated  two 
or  three  times,  and  I  saw  that  there  had  come  into  the 


THE  DREAM  OF  DUNCAN  BARRENNESS  79 

room  a  drunken  man,  as  I  thought,  from  Mr.  Hastings' 
rout.  He  sate  down  at  the  foot  of  my  bed  in  all  the 
world  as  it  belonged  to  him,  and  I  took  note,  as  well  as 
I  could,  that  his  face  was  somewhat  like  mine  own  grown 
older,  save  when  it  changed  to  the  face  of  the  Governor- 
General  or  my  father,  dead  these  six  months.  But  this 
seemed  to  me  only  natural,  and  the  due  result  of  too  much 
wine ;  and  I  was  so  angered  at  his  entry  all  unannounced, 
that  I  told  him,  not  over  civilly,  to  go.  To  all  my  words  he 
made-  no  answer  whatever,  only  saying  slowly,  as  though 
it  were  some  sweet  morsel :  'Writer  in  the  Company's 
service  and  afraid  of  no  man.'  Then  he  stops  short, 
and  turning  round  sharp  upon  me,  says  that  one  of  mj 
kidney  need  fear  neither  man  nor  devil  ;  that  I  was  a 
brave  young  man,  and  like  enough,  should  I  live  so  long, 
to  be  Governor-General.  But  for  all  these  things  (and  I 
suppose  that  he  meant  thereby  the  changes  and  chances 
of  our  shifty  life  in  these  parts)  I  must  pay  my  price. 
By  this  time  I  had  sobered  somewhat,  and  being  well 
waked  out  of  my  first  sleep,  was  disposed  to  look  upon 
the  matter  as  a  tipsy  man's  jest.  So, says  I  merrily:  'And 
what  price  shall  I  pay  for  this  palace  of  mine,  which  is 
but  twelve  feet  square,  and  my  five  poor  pagodas  a  month  ? 
The  Devil  take  you  and  your  jesting:  I  have  paid  my 
price  twice  over  in  sickness.'  At  that  moment  my  man 
turns  full  toward  me:  so  that  by  the  moonlight  I  could  see 
every  line  and  wrinkle  of  his  face.  Then  my  drunken 
mirth  died  out  of  me,  as  I  have  seen  the  waters  of  our 
great  rivers  die  away  in  one  night ;  and  I,  Duncan  Par- 
renness,  who  was  afraid  of  no  man,  was  taken  with  a 
more  deadly  terror  than  I  hold  it  has  ever  been  the  lot 
of  mortal  man  to  know.  For  I  saw  that  his  face  was 
my  very  own,  but  marked  and  lined  and  scarred  with  the 
furrows  of  disease  and  much  evil  living — as  I  once,  when 


80  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

I  was  (Lord  help  me)  very  drunk  indeed,  h;vve  seen  mine 
own  face,  all  white  and  drawn  and  grown  old,  in  a  mirror. 
I  take  it  that  any  man  would  have  been  even  more 
greatly  feared  than  I.  For  I  am  in  no  way  wanting  in 
courage. 

After  I  had  lain  still  for  a  little,  sweating  in  my  agony 
and  waiting  until  I  should  awake  from  this  terrible  dream 
(for  dream  I  knew  it  to  be)  he  says  again,  that  I  must  pay 
my  price:  and  a  little  after,  as  though  it  were  to  be  given 
in  pagodas  and  sicca  rupees:  *  What  price  will  you  pay?' 
Says  I,  very  softly:  'For  God's  sake  let  me  be,  whoever 
you  are,  and  I  will  mend  my  ways  from  to-night.'  Says 
he,  laughing  a  little  at  my  words,  but  otherwise  making 
no  motion  of  having  heard  them  :  'Nay,  I  would  only  rid 
so  brave  a  young  ruffler  as  yourself  of  much  that  will 
be  a  great  hindrance  to  you  on  your  way  through  life  in 
the  Indies;  for  believe  me/  and  here  he  looks  full  on 
me  once  more,  '  there  is  no  return.'  At  all  this  rigmarole, 
which  I  could  not  then  understand,  I  was  a  good  deal 
put  aback  and  waited  for  what  should  come  next.  Says 
he  very  calmly:  'Give  me  your  trust  in  man.'  At  that  I 
saw  how  heavy  would  be  my  price,  for  I  never  doubted 
but  that  he  could  take  from  me  all  that  he  asked,  and  my 
head  was,  through  terror  and  wakefulness,  altogether 
cleared  of  the  wine  I  had  drunk.  So  I  takes  him  up 
very  short,  crying  that  I  was  not  so  wholly  bad  as  he 
would  make  believe,  and  that  I  trusted  my  fellows  to  the 
full  as  much  as  they  were  worthy  of  it.  'It  was  none  of 
my  fault,'  says  I,  'if  one  half  of  them  were  liars  and  the 
other  half  deserved  to  be  burnt  in  the  hand,  and  I  would 
once  more  ask  him  to  have  done  with  his  questions.' 
Then  I  stopped,  a  little  afraid,  it  is  true,  to  have  let  my 
tongue  so  run  away  with  me,  but  he  took  no  notice  of 
fhis,  and  only  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  my  left  breast  and 


THE  DREAM  OF  DUNCAN  PARRENNESS     81 

I  felt  very  cold  there  for  a  while.  Then  he  says,  laughing 
more:  '  Give  me  your  faith  in  women/  At  that  I  started 
in  my  bed  as  though  I  had  been  stung,  for  I  thought  of 
my  sweet  mother  in  England,  and  for  a  while  fancied  that 
my  faith  in  God's  best  creatures  could  neither  be  shaken 
nor  stolen  from  me.  But  later,  Myself  s  hard  eyes  being 
upon  me,  I  fell  to  thinking,  for  the  second  time  that 
night,  of  Kitty  (she  that  jilted  me  and  married  Tom 
Sanderson)  and  of  Mistress  Vansuythen,  whom  only  my 
devilish  pride  made  me  follow,  and  how  she  was  even  worse 
than  Kitty,  and  I  worst  of  them  all — seeing  that  with  my 
life's  work  to  be  done,  I  must  needs  go  dancing  down  the 
Devil's  swept  and  garnished  causeway,  because,  forsooth, 
there  was  a  light  woman's  smile  at  the  end  of  it.  And  I 
thought  that  all  women  in  the  world  were  either  like 
Kitty  or  Mistress  Vansuythen  (as  indeed  they  have  ever 
since  been  to  me)  and  this  put  me  to  such  an  extremity 
of  rage  and  sorrow,  that  I  was  beyond  word  glad  when 
Myself's  hand  fell  again  on  my  left  breast,  and  I  was  no 
more  troubled  by  these  follies. 

After  this  he  was  silent  for  a  little,  and  I  made  sure 
that  he  must  go  or  I  awake  ere  long:  but  presently  he 
speaks  again  (and  very  softly)  that  I  was  a  fool  to  care 
for  such  follies  as  those  he  had  taken  from  me,  and  that 
ere  he  went  he  would  only  ask  me  for  a  few  other  trifles 
such  as  no  man,  or  for  matter  of  that  boy  either,  would 
keep  about  him  in  this  country.  And  so  it  happened 
that  he  took  from  out  of  my  very  heart  as  it  were, 
looking  all  the  time  into  my  face  with  my  own  eyes,  as 
much  as  remained  to  me  of  my  boy's  soul  and  conscience. 
This  was  to  me  a  far  more  terrible  loss  than  the  two  that 
I  had  suffered  before.  For  though,  Lord  help  me,  I  hud 
travelled  far  enough  from  all  paths  of  decent  or  godly 
living,  yet  there  was  in  me,  though  I  myself  write  it,  a 


LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

certain  goodness  of  heart  which,  when  I  was  sober  (or 
sick)  made  me  very  sorry  of  all  that  I  had  done  before 
the  lit  came  on  me.  And  this  I  lost  wholly:  having  in 
place  thereof  another  deadly  coldness  at  the  heart.  I  am 
not,  as  I  have  before  said,  ready  with  my  pen,  so  I  fear 
that  what  I  have  just  written  may  not  be  readily  under- 
stood. Yet  there  be  certain  times  in  a  young  man's  life, 
when,  through  great  sorrow  or  sin,  all  the  boy  in  him  is 
burnt  and  seared  away  so  that  he  passes  at  one  step  to  the 
more  sorrowful  state  of  manhood:  as  our  staring  Indian 
day  changes  into  night  with  never  so  much  as  the  gray  of 
twilight  to  temper  the  two  extremes.  This  shall  perhaps 
make  my  state  more  clear,  if  it  be  remembered  that  my 
torment  was  ten  times  as  great  as  comes  in  the  natural 
course  of  nature  to  any  man.  At  that  time  I  dared  not 
think  of  the  change  that  had  come  over  me,  and  all  in 
one  night:  though  I  have  often  thought  of  it  since.  'I 
have  paid  the  price/  says  I,  my  teeth  chattering,  for  I  was 
deadly  cold,  'and  what  is  my  return?'  At  this  time  it 
was  nearly  dawn,  and  Myself  had  begun  to  grow  pale 
and  thin  against  the  white  light  in  the  east,  as  my  mother 
used  to  tell  me  is  the  custom  of  ghosts  and  devils  and 
the  like.  He  made  as  if  he  would  go,  but  my  words 
stopt  him  and  he  laughed — as  I  remember  that  I  laughed 
when  I  ran  Angus  Macalister  through  the  sword-arm  last 
August,  because  he  said  that  Mrs.  Vansuythen  was  no 
better  than  she  should  be.  'What  return?' — says  he, 
catching  up  my  last  words — '  Why,  strength  to  live  as  long 
as  God  or  the  Devil  pleases,  and  so  long  as  you  live  my 
young  master,  my  gift.'  With  that  he  puts  something  into 
my  hand,  though  it  was  still  too  dark  to  see  what  it  was, 
and  when  next  I  lookt  up  he  was  gone. 

When  the  light  came  I  made  shift  to  behold  his  gift, 
and  saw  that  it  was  a  little  piece  of  dry  bread. 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA 
MULVANEY 

Wohl  auf,  my  bully  cavaliers, 

We  ride  to  church  to-day, 
The  man  that  hasn't  got  a  horse 

Must  steal  one  straight  away. 

Be  reverent,  men,  remember 

This  is  a  Gottes  haus. 
Du,  Conrad,  cut  along  der  aisle 

And  schenck  der  whiskey  aus. 

Hniis  Breitmanri's  Ride  to  Church. 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  very  far  from  England,  there  lived 
three  men  who  loved  each  other  so  greatly  that  neither 
man  nor  woman  could  come  between  them.  They  were 
in  no  sense  refined,  nor  to  be  admitted  to  the  outer- 
door  mats  of  decent  folk,  because  they  happened  to  be 
private  soldiers  in  Her  Majesty's  Army;  and  private 
soldiers  of  our  service  have  small  time  for  self-culture. 
Their  duty  is  to  keep  themselves  and  their  accoutre- 
ments speckle-ssly  clean,  to  refrain  from  getting  drunk 
more  often  than  is  necessary,  to  obey  their  superiors,  and 
to  pray  for  a  war.  All  these  things  my  friends  accom- 
plished; and  of  their  own  motion  threw  in  some  fighting- 
work  for  which  the  Army  Regulations  did  not  call. 
Their  fate  sent  them  to  serve  in  India,  which  is  not 


84  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

a  golden  country,  though  poets  have  sung  otherwise. 
There  men  die  with  great  swiftness,  and  those  who  live 
suffer  many  and  curious  things.  I  do  not  think  that  my 
friends  concerned  themselves  much  with  the  social  or 
political  aspects  of  the  East.  They  attended  a  not  un- 
important war  on  the  northern  frontier,  another  one  on 
our  western  boundary,  and  a  third  in  Upper  Burma. 
Then  their  regiment  sat  still  to  recruit,  and  the  boundless 
monotony  of  cantonment  life  was  their  portion.  They 
were  drilled  morning  and  evening  on  the  same  dusty 
parade-ground.  They  wandered  up  and  down  the  same 
stretch  of  dusty  white  road,  attended  the  same  church 
and  the  same  grog-shop,  and  slept  in  the  same  lime- 
washed  barn  of  a  barrack  for  two  long  years.  There  was 
Mulvaney,  the  father  in  the  craft,  who  had  served  with 
various  regiments  from  Bermuda  to  Halifax,  old  in  war, 
scarred,  reckless,  resourceful,  and  in  his  pious  hours  an 
unequalled  soldier.  To  him  turned  for  help  and  comfort 
six  and  a  half  feet  of  slow-moving,  heavy-footed  York- 
shireman,  born  on  the  wolds,  bred  in  the  dales,  and 
educated  chiefly  among  the  carriers'  carts  at  the  back  of 
York  railway-station.  His  name  was  Learoyd,  and  his 
chief  virtue  an  unmitigated  patience  which  helped  him 
to  win  fights.  How  Ortheris,  a  fox-terrier  of  a  Cockney, 
ever  came  to  be  one  of  the  trio,  is  a  mystery  which  even 
to-day  I  cannot  explain.  '  There  was  always  three  av  us/ 
Mulvaney  used  to  say.  'An'  by  the  grace  av  God,  so  long 
as  our  service  lasts,  three  av  us  they'll  always  be.  'Tis 
betther  so.' 

They  desired  no  companionship  beyond  their  own, 
and  it  was  evil  for  any  man  of  the  regiment  who  at- 
tempted dispute  with  them.  Physical  argument  was  out 
of  the  question  as  regarded  Mulvaney  and  the  Yorksh ire- 
man;  and  assault  on  Ortheiis  meant  a  combined  attack 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY      85 

from  these  twain — a  business  which  no  five  men  were 
anxious  to  have  on  their  hands.  Therefore  they  flourished, 
sharing  their  drinks,  their  tobacco,  and  their  money ; 
good  luck  and  evil ;  battle  and  the  chances  of  death  ; 
life  and  the  chances  of  happiness  from  Calicut  in  southern, 
to  Peshawur  in  northern  India. 

Through  no  merit  of  my  own  it  was  my  good  fortune 
to  be  in  a  measure  admitted  to  their  friendship — frankly 
by  Mulvaney  from  the  beginning,  sullenly  and  with  re- 
luctance by  Learoyd,  and  suspiciously  by  Ortheris,  who 
held  to  it  that  no  man  not  in  the  Army  could  fraternise 
with  a  red-coat.  'Like  to  like,'  said  lie.  'I'm  a 
bloomin'  sodger — he's  a  bloomin'  civilian.  'Taint  natural 
—that's  all.' 

But  that  was  not  all.  They  thawed  progressively, 
and  in  the  thawing  told  me  more  of  their  lives  and 
adventures  than  I  am  ever  likely  to  write. 

Omitting  all  else,  this  tale  begins  with  the  Lamentable 
Thirst  that  was  at  the  beginning  of  First  Causes.  Xever 
was  such  a  thirst — Mulvaney  told  me  so.  They  kicked 
against  their  compulsory  virtue,  but  the  attempt  was 
only  successful  in  the  case  of  Ortheris.  He,  whose 
talents  were  many,  went  forth  into  the  highways  and 
stole  a  dog  from  a  'civilian' — videlicet,  some  one,  he 
knew  not  who,  not  in  the  Army.  Now  that  civilian  was 
but  newly  connected  by  marriage  with  the  colonel  of  the 
regiment,  and  outcry  was  made  from  quarters  least 
anticipated  by  Ortheris,  and,  in  the  end,  he  was  forced, 
lest  a  worse  thing  should  happen,  to  dispose  at  ridicu- 
lously unremunerative  rates  of  as  promising  a  small 
terrier  as  ever  graced  one  end  of  a  leading  string.  The 
purchase-money  was  barely  sufficient  for  one  small  out- 
break which  led  him  to  the  guard-room.  He  escaped, 
however,  with  nothing  worse  than  a  severe  reprimand. 


86  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

ami  a  few  hours  of  punishment  drill.  Not  for  nothing 
hud  he  acquired  the  reputation  of  being  'the  best  soldier 
of  his  inches'  in  the  regiment.  Mulvaney  had  taught 
personal  cleanliness  and  efficiency  as  the  first  articles 
of  his  companions'  creed.  'A  dhirty  man/ he  was  used 
to  say,  in  the  speech  of  his  kind,  'goes  to  Clink  for  a 
weakness  in  the  knees,  an'  is  coort-martialled  for  a  pair 
av  socks  missin'  ;  but  a  clane  man,  such  as  is  an  orna- 
ment to  his  service — a  man  whose  buttons  are  gold, 
whose  coat  is  wax  upon  him,  an'  whose  'coutrernents  are 
widout  a  speck — that  man  may,  spakin'  in  reason,  do 
fwhat  he  likes  an'  dhrink  from  day  to  divil.  That's  the 
pride  av  bein'  dacint.' 

We  sat  together,  upon  a  day,  in  the  shade  of  a  ravine 
far  from  the  barracks,  where  a  watercourse  used  to  run 
in  rainy  weather.  Behind  us  was  the  scrub  jungle,  in 
which  jackals,  peacocks,  the  gray  wolves  of  the  North- 
Western  Provinces,  and  occasionally  a  tiger  estrayed 
from  Central  India,  were  supposed  to  dwell.  In  front 
lay  the  cantonment,  glaring  white  under  a  glaring  sun  ; 
and  on  either  side  ran  the  broad  road  that  led  to  Delhi. 

It  was  the  scrub  that  suggested  to  my  mind  the 
wisdom  of  Mulvaney  taking  a  day's  leave  and  going  upon 
a  shooting-tour.  The  peacock  is  a  holy  bird  throughout 
India,  and  he  who  slays  one  is  in  danger  of  being  mobbed 
by  the  nearest  villagers  ;  but  on  the  last  occasion  that 
Mulvaney  had  gone  forth,  he  had  contrived,  without  in 
the  least  offending  local  religious  susceptibilities,  to  return 
with  six  beautiful  peacock  skins  which  he  sold  to  profit. 
It  seemed  just  possible  then 

'  But  fwhat  manner  av  use  is  nt  to  me  goin'  out 
widout  a  dhrink?  The  ground's  powdher-dhry  under- 
foot, an'  ut  gets  unto  the  throat  fit  to  kill,'  wailed 
Mulvaney,  looking  at  me  reproachfully.  'An'  a  peacock 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY      87 

is  not  a  bird  you  can  catch  the  tail  av  onless  ye  run. 
Can  a  man  run  on  wather — an'  j angle- wather  too  ?' 

Ortheris  had  considered  the  question  in  all  its  bearings. 
He  spoke,  chewing  his  pipe-stem  meditatively  the  while  : 

'Go  forth,  return  in  glory, 
To  Clusium's  royal  'ome  : 
An'  round  these  bloomin'  temples  'ang 
The  bloomin'  shields  o'  Rome. 

You  better  go.  You  ain't  like  to  shoot  yourself — not 
while  there's  a  chanst  of  liquor.  Me  an'  Learoyd  '11  stay 
at  'ome  an'  keep  shop — 'case  o'  anythin'  turnin'  up.  But 
you  go  out  with  a  gas-pipe  gun  an'  ketcli  the  little  pea- 
cockses  or  somethin'.  You  kin  get  one  day's  leave  easy 
as  winkin'.  Go  along  an'  get  it,  an'  get  peacockses  or 
somethin'.' 

'Jock,'  said  Mulvaney,  turning  to  Learoyd,  who  was 
half  asleep  under  the  shadow  of  the  bank.  He  roused 
slowly. 

'Sitha,  Mulvaaney,  go,'  said  he. 

And  Mulvaney  went ;  cursing  his  allies  with  Irish 
fluency  and  barrack-room  point. 

'Take  note/  said  he,  when  he  had  won  his  holiday, 
and  appeared  dressed  in  his  roughest  clothes  with  the 
only  other  regimental  fowling  piece  in  his  hand.  'Take 
note,  Jock,  an'  you  Orth'ris,  I  am  goin'  in  the  face  av 
my  own  will — all  for  to  please  you.  I  misdoubt  any- 
thin'  will  come  av  permiscuous  huntin'  afther  peacockses 
in  a  desolit  Ian'  ;  an'  I  know  that  I  will  lie  down  an'  die 
Avid  thirrrst.  Me  catch  peacockses  for  you,  ye  lazy  scutts 
— an'  be  sacrificed  by  the  peasanthry — Ugh  !' 

He  waved  a  huge  paw  and  went  away. 

At  twilight,  long  before  the  appointed  hour,  he  re- 
turned empty-handed,  much  begrimed  with  dirt. 

'Peacockses?'    queried    Ortheris    from    the    safe    rest 


88  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

of  a  barrack-room  table  whereon  he  was  smoking  cross- 
legged,  Learoyd  fast  asleep  on  a  bench. 

'Jock,'  said  Mulvaney  without  answering,  as  he  stirred 
up  the  sleeper.  'Jock,  can  ye  fight?  Will  ye  fight?' 

Very  slowly  the  meaning  of  the  words  communicated 
itself  to  the  half-roused  man.  He  understood — and  again 
— what  might  these  things  mean?  Mulvaney  was 
shaking  him  savagely.  Meantime  the  men  in  the  room 
howled  with  delight.  There  was  war  in  the  confederacy 
at  last — war  and  the  breaking  of  bonds. 

Barrack-room  etiquette  is  stringent.  On  the  direct 
challenge  must  follow  the  direct  reply.  This  is  more 
binding  than  the  ties  of  tried  friendship.  Once  again 
Mulvaney  repeated  the  question.  Learoyd  answered  by 
the  only  means  in  his  power,  and  so  swiftly  that  the 
Irishman  had  barely  time  to  avoid  the  blow.  The 
laughter  around  increased.  Learoyd  looked  bewildered ly 
at  his  friend — himself  as  greatly  bewildered.  Ortheris 
dropped  from  the  table  because  his  world  was  falling. 

'Come  outside,'  said  Mulvaney,  and  as  the  occupants 
of  the  barrack-room  prepared  joyously  to  follow,  he  turned 
and  said  furiously,  'There  will  be  no  fight  this  night — 
onless  any  wan  av  you  is  wishful  to  assist.  The  man 
that  does,  follows  on.' 

No  man  moved.  The  three  passed  out  into  the  moon- 
light, Learoyd  fumbling  with  the  buttons  of  his  coat. 
The  parade-ground  was  deserted  except  for  the  scurrying 
jackals.  Mulvaney's  impetuous  rush  carried  his  com- 
panions far  into  the  open  ere  Learoyd  attempted  to  turn 
round  and  continue  the  discussion. 

'  Be  still  now.  'Twas  my  fault  for  beginnin'  things 
in  the  middle  av  an  end,  Jock.  I  should  ha'  comminst 
wid  an  explanation  ;  but  Jock,  dear,  on  your  sowl  are 
ye  fit,  think  you,  for  the  finest  fight  that  iver  was— 


THE  INCARNATION   OP  KRISHNA  MULVANEY      89 

betther     than     fightin'     me  ?       Considher     before     ye 
answer/ 

More  than  ever  puzzled,  Learoyd  turned  round  two  or 
three  times,  felt  an  arm,  kicked  tentatively,  and  answered, 
'Ah'm  fit.'  He  was  accustomed  to  fight  blindly  at  the 
bidding  of  the  superior  mind. 

They  sat  them  down,  the  men  looking  on  from  afar, 
and  Mulvaney  untangled  himself  in  mighty  words. 

*  Followin'  your  fools'  scheme  I  wiut  out  into  the 
thrackless  desert  beyond  the  barricks.  An'  there  I  met 
a  pious  Hindu  dhriving  a  bullock-kyart.  I  tuk  ut  for 
granted  he  wud  be  delighted  for  to  convoy  me  a  piece, 
an'  I  jumped  in ' 

'You  long,  lazy,  black-haired  swine,'  drawled  Ortheris, 
who  would  have  done  the  same  thing  under  similar 
circumstances. 

'  'Twas  the  height  av  policy.  That  naygur-man  dhruv 
miles  an'  miles — as  far  as  the  new  railway  line  they're 
buildin'  now  back  av  the  Tavi  river.  "'Tis  a  kyart  for 
dhirt  only,"  says  he  now  an'  again  timoreously,  to  get  me 
out  av  ut.  "  Dhirt  I  am,"  sez  I,  "an'  the  dhryest  that  you 
iver  kyarted.  Dhrive  on,  me  son,  an'  glory  be  wid  you." 
At  that  I  wint  to  slape,  an'  took  no  heed  till  he  pulled 
up  on  the  embankmint  av  the  line  where  the  coolies  were 
pilin'  mud.  There  was  a  matther  av  two  thousand  coolies 
on  that  line — you  remimber  that.  Prisintly  a  bell  rang, 
an'  they  throops  off  to  a  big  pay-shed.  "  Where's  the 
white  man  in  charge?"  sez  I  to  my  kyart-dh river.  "In 
the  shed,"  sez  he,  "engaged  on  a  riffle."— "  A  fwhat?" 
sez  I.  "Riffle,"  sez  he.  "You  take  ticket.  He  take 
money.  You  get  nothin'."— "  Oho  !  "  sez  I,  "  that's  fwhat 
the  shuperior  an'  cultivated  man  calls  a  raffle,  me 
misbeguided  child  av  darkness  an'  sin.  Lead  on  to  that 
ruffle,  though  fwhat  the  mischief  'tis  dohf  so  far  away 


90  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

from  \its  home — which  is  the  charity-bazaar  at  Christmas, 
an'  the  colonel's  wife  grinnin'  behind  the  tea-table — is 
more  than  I  know/'  Will  that  I  wint  to  the  shed  an' 
found  'twas  pay-day  among  the  coolies.  Their  wages 
was  on  a  table  forninst  a  big.  tine,  red  buck  av  a  man  — 
sivun  fut  high,  four  fut  wide,  an'  three  fut  thick,  wid  u 
fist  on  him  like  a  corn-sack.  He  was  pay  in'  the  coolies 
fair  an'  easy,  but  he  wud  ask  each  man  if  he  wud  raffle 
that  month,  an'  each  man  sez,  "Yes,"  av  course.  Thin  he 
wud  deduct  from  their  wages  accordin'.  Whin  all  was 
paid,  he  filled  an  ould  cigar-box  full  av  gun-wads  an' 
scatthered  ut  among  the  coolies.  They  did  not  take  much 
joy  av  that  performince,  an'  small  wondher.  A  man  close 
to  me  picks  up  a  black  gun-wad  an'  sings  out,  "I  have 
ut." — "  Good  may  ut  do  you,"  sez  I.  The  coolie  wint 
forward  to  this  big,  fine,  red  man,  who  threw  a  cloth  off 
av  the  most  sumpshus.  jooled,  enamelled  an'  variously 
bedivilled  sedan-chair  I  iver  saw.' 

'Sedan-chair!  Put  your  'ead  in  a  bag.  That  was  a 
palanquin.  Don't  yer  know  a  palanquin  when  you  see 
it?'  said  Ortheris  with  great  scorn. 

'I  chuse  to  call  ut  sedan  chair,  an'  chair  ut  shall  be, 
little  man,'  continued  the  Irishman.  '  Twas  a  most  amazin' 
chair — all  lined  wid  pink  silk  an'  fitted  wid  red  silk 
curtains.  "Here  ut  is,"  sez  the  red  man.  "Here  ut  is," 
sez  the  coolie,  an'  he  grinned  weakly-ways.  "Is  ut  any 
use  to  you?"  sez  the  red  man.  "No,"  sez  the  coolie; 
"I'd  like  to  make  a  presint  av  ut  to  you." — "I  am  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  accept  that  same,"  sez  the  red  man  ;  an' 
at  that  all  the  coolies  cried  aloud  in  fwhat  was  mint  for 
cheerful  notes,  an'  wint  back  to  their  diggin',  lavin'  me 
alone  in  the  shed.  The  red  man  saw  me,  an'  his  face 
grew  blue  on  his  big,  fat  neck.  "Fwhat  d'you  want 
here?"  sez  he.  "Standin'-room  an'  no  more,"  sez  I, 


THE  INCARNATION  OP  KRISHNA  MULVANEY       91 

"  onless  it  may  be  f  what  ye  niver  had,  an'  that's  manners, 
ye  rafflin'  ruffian,"  for  I  was  not  goin'  to  have  the  Service 
throd  upon.  "Out  of  this/' sez  lie.  "I'm  in  charge  av 
this  section  av  construction." — •'  I'm  in  charge  av  mesilf," 
sez  I,  "  an'  it's  like  I  will  stay  a  while.  D'ye  raffle 
much  in  these  parts?" — "  Fwhat's  that  to  you?"  sez  he. 
"  Nothin',"  sez  I,  "but  a  great  dale  to  you,  for  begad  I'm 
thinkin'  you  get  the  full  half  av  your  revenue  from  that 
sedan-chair.  Is  tit  always  raffled  so?"  I  sez,  an'  wid  that 
I  wint  to  a  coolie  to  ask  questions.  Bhoys,  that  man's  name 
is  Dearsley,  an'  he's  been  rafflin'  that  ould  sedan-chair 
monthly  this  matther  av  nine  months.  Ivry  coolie  on  the 
section  takes  a  ticket — or  he  gives  'em  the  go — wanst 
a  month  on  pay-day.  Ivry  coolie  that  wins  tit  gives  ut 
back  to  him,  for  'tis  too  big  to  carry  away,  an'  he'd  sack 
the  man  that  thried  to  sell  ut.  That  Dearsley  has  been 
makin'  the  rowlin'  wealth  av  Koshus  by  nefarious  rafflin'. 
Think  av  the  burnin'  shame  to  the  sufferin'  coolie- man 
that  the  army  in  Injia  are  bound  to  protect  an'  nourish 
in  their  bosoms!  Two  thousand  coolies  defrauded  wanst 
a  month  ! ' 

'  Dom  t'  coolies.  Has't  gotten  t'  cheer,  man?'  said 
Learoyd. 

'  Hotild  on.  Havin'  onearthed  this  amazin'  an'  stupen- 
jus  fraud  committed  by  the  man  Dearsley,  I  hild  a  couiu  il 
av  war;  he  thryin'  all  the  time  to  sejuce  me  into  a 
fight  wid  opprobrious  language.  That  sedan-chair  niver 
belonged  by  right  to  any  foreman  av  coolies.  'Tis  a  king's 
chair  or  a  quane's.  There's  gold  on  ut  an'  silk  an'  all 
manner  av  trapesemints.  Bhoys,  'tis  not  for  me  to  counte- 
nance any  sort  av  wrong-doin' — me  bein'  the  ould  man 

—but anyway  he  has  had  ut  nine  months,  an'  he  dare 

not  make  throuble  av  ut  was  taken  from  him.  Five 
miles  away,  or  ut  may  be  -six — 


92  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  the  jackals  howled  merrily. 
Leuroyd  bared  one  arm,  and  contemplated  it  in  the  moon- 
light. Then  he  nodded  partly  to  himself  and  partly  to 
his  friends.  Ortheris  wriggled  with  suppressed  emotion. 

•  I  thought  ye  wud  see  the  reasonableness  av  ut,'  said 
Mulvatiey.  *  I  made  bould  to  say  as  much  to  the  man 
before.  He  was  for  a  direct  front  attack — fut,  horse,  an' 

guns an' all  for  notliin',  seein'  that  I  had  no  thrans- 

port  to  convey  the  machine  away.  "  I  will  not  argue 
wid  you,"sez  I,  "this  day, but subsequintly,  Mister  Dearsley, 
me  rafflin'  jool,  we  talk  ut  out  lengthways.  'Tis  no  good 
policy  to  swindle  the  naygur  av  his  hard-earned  emolu- 
mints,  an'  by  presint  informashin' '  —'twas  the  kyart  man 
that  tould  me — "  ye've  been  perpethrating  that  same  for 
nine  months.  But  I'm  a  just  man,"  sez  I,  "an'  overlookin' 
the  presumpshin  that  yondher  settee  wid  the  gilt  top  was 
not  come  by  hontist" — at  that  he  turned  sky-green,  so  I 
knew  things  was  more  thrue  than  tellable — "not  come 
by  honust,  I'm  willin'  to  compound  the  felony  for  this 
month's  winnin's."' 

'  Ah  !  Ho  ! '  from  Learoyd  and  Ortheris. 

'That  man  Dearsley's  rushin'  on  his  fate/ continued 
Mulvaney,  solemnly  wagging  his  head.  *  All  Hell  had  no 
name  bad  enough  for  me  that  tide.  Faith,  he  called  me 
a  robber  !  Me !  that  was  savin'  him  from  continuin'  in 
his  evil  ways  widout  a  remonstrince — an'  to  a  man  av 
conscience  a  remonstrince  may  change  the  chune  av  his 
life.  "  'Tis  not  for  me  to  argue,"  sez  I,  "  f whatever  ye  are, 
Mister  Dearsley,  but,  by  my  hand,  I'll  take  away  the 
temptation  for  you  that  lies  in  that  sedan-chair." — "  You 
will  have  to  fight  me  for  ut,"  sez  he,  "  for  well  I  know  you 
will  never  dare  make  report  to  any  one." — "Fight  I  will," 
sez  I,  "  but  not  this  day,  for  I'm  rejuced  for  want  av 
nourishment." — "Ye're  an  ould  bould  hand,"  sez  he,  sizin' 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY       93 

me  up  au'  down;  "an5  a  jool  av  a  fight  we  will  have.  Eat 
now  an'  dhrink,  an'  go  your  way."  Wid  that  lie  gave 
me  some  hump  an'  whisky — good  whisky — an'  we  talked 
av  this  an'  that  the  while.  "It  goes  hard  on  me  now," 
sez  I,  wipin'  my  mouth,  "to  confiscate  that  piece  av 
furniture,  but  justice  is  justice." — "  Ye've  not  got  ut  yet," 
sez  he;  "there's  the  fight  between." — "There  is,"  sez  I, 
"an'  a  good  fight.  Ye  shall  have  the  pick  av  the  best 
quality  in  my  rigimint  for  the  dinner  you  have  given  this 
day."  Thin  I  came  hot-foot  to  you  two.  Hould  your 
tongue,  the  both.  'Tis  this  way.  To-morrow  we  three 
will  go  there  an'  he  shall  have  his  pick  betune  me  an' 
Jock.  Jock's  a  deceivin'  fighter,  for  he  is  all  fat  to  the 
eye,  an'  he  moves  slow.  Now  I'm  all  beef  to  the  look, 
an'  I  move  quick.  By  my  reckon  in'  the  Dearsley  man 
won't  take  me;  so  me  an'  Orth'ris  '11  see  fair  play.  Jock, 
I  tell  you,  'twill  be  big  fightin'— whipped,  wid  the  cream 
above  the  jam.  Aftlier  the  business  'twill  take  a  good 
three  av  us — Jock  '11  be  very  hurt — to  haul  away  that 
sedan-chair.' 

'Palanquin.'     This  from  Ortheris. 

'  F whatever  ut  is,  we  must  have  ut.  'Tis  the  only 
sellin'  piece  av  property  widin  reach  that  we  can  get  so 
cheap.  An'  fwhat's  a  fight  afther  all  ?  He  has  robbed 
the  naygur-man,  dishonust.  We  rob  him  honust  for  the 
sake  av  the  whisky  he  gave  me.' 

*  But  wot'll  we  do  with  the  bloomin'  article  when  we've 
got  it?  Them  palanquins  are  as  big  as  'ouses,  an' 
uncommon  'ard  to  sell,  as  McCleary  said  when  ye  stole 
the  sentry-box  from  the  Curragh.' 

'Who's  goin'  to  do  t'  fightin'?'  said  Learoyd,  and 
Ortheris  subsided.  The  three  returned  to  barracks  with- 
out a  word.  Mulvaney's  last  argument  clinched  the 
matter.  This  palanquin  was  property,  vendible,  and  to  be 


94  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

attained  in  the  simplest  and  least  embarrassing  fashion. 
It  would  eventually  become  beer.  Great  was  Mulvaney. 

Next  afternoon  a  procession  of  three  formed  itself  and 
disappeared  into  the  scrub  in  the  direction  of  the  new 
railway  line.  Learoyd  alone  was  without  care,  for  Mul- 
vanev  dived  darkly  into  the  future,  and  little  Ortheri.s 
feared  the  unknown.  What  befell  at  that  interview  in 
the  lonely  pay-shed  by  the  side  of  the  half-built  embank- 
ment, only  a  few  hundred  coolies  know,  and  their  tale  is 
a  confusing  one,  running  thus — 

•  We  were  at  work.  Three  men  in  red  coats  came. 
They  saw  the  Sahib — Dearsley  Sahib.  They  made  oration; 
and  noticeably  the  small  man  among  the  red-coats. 
Dearsley  Sahib  also  made  oration,  and  used  many  very 
strong  words.  Upon  this  talk  they  departed  together  to 
an  open  space,  and  there  the  fat  man  in  the  red  coat 
fought  with  Dearsley  Sahib  after  the  custom  of  white 
men — with  his  hands,  making  no  noise,  and  never  at  all 
pulling  Dearsley  Sahib's  hair.  Such  of  us  as  were  not 
afraid  beheld  these  things  for  just  so  long  a  time  as  a 
man  needs  to  cook  the  mid-day  meal.  The  small  man 
in  the  red  coat  had  possessed  himself  of  Dearsley  Sahib's 
watch.  No,  he  did  not  steal  that  watch.  He  held  it  in 
his  hand,  and  at  certain  seasons  made  outcry,  and  the 
twain  ceased  their  combat,  which  was  like  the  combat  of 
young  bulls  in  spring.  Both  men  were  soon  all  red,  but 
Dearsley  Sahib  was  much  more  red  than  the  other. 
Seeing  this,  and  fearing  for  his  life — because  we  greatly 
loved  him — some  fifty  of  us  made  shift  to  rush  upon  the 
red-coats.  But  a  certain  man — very  black  as  to  the  hair, 
and  in  no  way  to  be  confused  with  the  small  man,  or  the 
fat  man  who  fought — that  man,  we  affirm,  ran  upon  us, 
and  of  us  he  embraced  some  ten  or  fifty  in  both  arms, 
and  beat  our  heads  together,  so  that  our  livers  turned  to 


THE  INCARNATION   OF   KRISHNA   MULVANEY       05 

water,  and  we  ran  away.  It  is  not  good  to  interfere  in  the 
fightings  of  white  men.  After  that  Dearsley  Sahib  fell 
and  did  not  rise,  these  men  jumped  upon  his  stomuch 
and  despoiled  him  of  all  his  money,  and  attempted  to 
fire  the  pay-shed,  and  departed.  Is  it  true  that  Dearsley 
Sahib  makes  no  complaint  of  these  latter  things  having 
been  done?  We  were  senseless  with  fear,  and  do  not 
at  all  remember.  There  was  no  palanquin  near  the  pay- 
shed.  What  do  we  know  about  palanquins?  Is  it  true 
that  Dearsley  Sahib  does  not  return  to  this  place,  on 
account  of  his  sickness,  for  ten  days?  This  is  the  fault 
of  those  bad  men  in  the  red  coats,  who  should  be  severely 
punished;  for  Dearsley  Sahib  is  both  our  father  and 
mother,  and  we  love  him  much.  Yet,  if  Dearsley  Sahib 
does  not  return  to  this  place  at  all,  we  will  speak  the  truth. 
There  was  a  palanquin,  for  the  up-keep  of  which  we  were 
forced  to  pay  nine-tenths  of  our  monthly  wage.  On  such 
mulctings  Dearsley  Sahib  allowed  us  to  make  obeisance 
to  him  before  the  palanquin.  What  could  we  do?  We 
were  poor  men.  He  took  a  full  half  of  our  wages. 
Will  the  Government  repay  us  those  moneys?  Those 
three  men  in  red  coats  bore  the  palanquin  upon  their 
shoulders  and  departed.  All  the  money  that  Dearsley 
Sahib  had  taken  from  us  was  in  the  cushions  of  that 
palanquin.  Therefore  they  stole  it.  Thousands  of  rupees 
were  there — all  our  money.  It  was  our  bank-box,  to  fill 
which  we  cheerfully  contributed  to  Dearsley  Sahib  three- 
sevenths  of  our  monthly  wage.  Why  does  the  white 
man  look  upon  us  with  the  eye  of  disfavour?  Before 
God,  there  was  a  palanquin,  and  now  there  is  no  palan- 
quin; and  if  they  send  the  police  here  to  make  inquisition, 
we  can  only  say  that  there  never  has  been  any  palanquin. 
Why  should  a  palanquin  be  near  these  works?  We  are 
poor  men,  and  we  know  nothing.' 


96  LIFE'S    HANDICAP 

Such  is  the  simplest  version  of  the  simplest  story 
connected  with  the  descent  upon  Dearsley.  From  the 
lips  of  the  coolies  I  received  it.  Dearsley  himself  was  in 
no  condition  to  say  anything,  and  Mulvaney  preserved  a 
massive  silence,  broken  only  by  the  occasional  licking  of 
the  lips,  lie  had  seen  a  fight  so  gorgeous  that  even  his 
power  of  speech  was  taken  from  him.  I  respected  that 
reserve  until,  three  days  after  the  affair,  I  discovered  in 
a  disused  stable  in  my  quarters  a  palanquin  of  unchas- 
tened  splendour — evidently  in  past  days  the  litter  of  a 
queen.  The  pole  whereby  it  swung  between  the  shoulders 
of  the  bearers  was  rich  with  the  painted  papier-mache 
of  Cashmere.  The  shoulder-pads  were  of  yellow  silk. 
The  panels  of  the  litter  itself  were  ablaze  with  the  loves 
of  all  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  the  Hindu  Pantheon- 
lacquer  on  cedar.  The 'cedar  sliding  doors  were  fitted 
with  hasps  of  translucent  Jaipur  enamel  and  ran  in 
grooves  shod  with  silver.  The  cushions  were  of  brocaded 
Delhi  silk,  and  the  curtains  which  once  hid  any  glimpse 
of  the  beauty  of  the  king's  palace  were  stiff  with  gold. 
Closer  investigation  showed  that  the  entire  fabric  was 
everywhere  rubbed  and  discoloured  by  time  and  wear; 
but  even  thus  it  was  sufficiently  gorgeous  to  deserve 
housing  on  the  threshold  of  a  royal  zenana.  I  found  no 
fault  with  it,  except  that  it  was  in  my  stable.  Then, 
trying  to  lift  it  by  the  silver-shod  shoulder-pole,  I  laughed. 
The  road  from  Dearsley's  pay-shed  to  the  cantonment  was 
a  narrow  and  uneven  one,  and,  traversed  by  three  very 
inexperienced  palanquin-bearers,  one  of  whom  was  sorely 
battered  about  the  head,  must  have  been  a  path  of  torment. 
Still  I  did  not  quite  recognise  the  right  of  the  three 
musketeers  to  turn  me  into  a  'fence'  for  stolen 
property. 

'I'm  ask  in'  you  to  warehouse  ut,'  said  Mulvaney  when 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY       97 

he  was  brought  to  consider  the  question.  '  There's  no  steal 
in  ut.  Dearsley  tould  us  we  cud  have  ut  if  we  fought. 
Jock  fought — an',  oh,  sorr,  when  the  th  rouble  was  at  uts 
finest  an'  Jock  was  bleedin*  like  a  stuck  pig,  an'  little 
Orth'ris  was  shquealin'  on  one  leg  chewin'  big  bites  out 
av  Dearsley's  watch,  I  wud  ha'  given  my  place  at  the 
fight  to  have  had  you  see  wan  round.  He  tuk  Jock,  as  I 
suspicioned  he  would,  an'  Jock  was  deceptive.  Nine  roun's 
they  were  even  matched,  an'  at  the  tenth—  About 
that  palanquin  now.  There's  not  the  least  throuble  in 
the  world,  or  we  wud  not  ha'  brought  ut  here.  You  will 
ondherstand  that  the  Queen — God  bless  her! — does  not 
reckon  for  a  privit  soldier  to  kape  elephints  an'  palanquins 
an'  sich  in  barricks.  Afther  we  had  dlmigged  ut  down 
from  Dearsley's  through  that  cruel  scrub  that  near  broke 
Orth'ris's  heart,  we  set  ut  in  the  ravine  for  a  night;  an' 
a  thief  av  a  porcupine  an'  a  civet-cat  av  a  jackal  roosted 
in  ut,  as  well  we  knew  in  the  mornin'.  I  put  ut  to  you, 
sorr,  is  an  elegint  palanquin,  fit  for  the  princess,  the 
natural  abidin'  place  av  all  the  vermin  in  cantonmints? 
We  brought  ut  to  you,  afther  dhark,  and  put  ut  in 
your  shtable.  Do  not  let  your  conscience  prick.  Think 
av  the  rejoicin'  men  in  the  pay-shed  yonder — lookin'  at 
Dearsley  wid  his  head  tied  up  in  a  towel — an'  well 
knowin'  that  they  can  dhraw  their  pay  ivry  month 
widout  stoppages  for  riffles.  Indirectly,  sorr,  you  have 
rescued  from  an  onprincipled  son  av  a  night-hawk  the 
peasanthry  av  a  numerous  village.  An'  besides,  will  I 
let  that  sedan-chair  rot  on  our  hands?  Not  I.  'Tis 
not  every  day  a  piece  av  pure  joolry  comes  into  the  market. 
There's  not  a  king  widin  these  forty  miles  ' — he  waved 
his  hand  round  the  dusty  horizon — '  not  a  king  wud  not 
be  glad  to  buy  ut.  Some  day  meself,  whin  I  have  leisure, 
I'll  take  ut  up  along  the  road  an'  dishpose  av  ut.' 


98  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

'How?'  said  I,  for  I  knew  the  man  was  capable  of 
anything. 

'Get  into  ut,  av  coorse,  and  keep  wan  eye  open 
through  the  curtains.  Whin  I  see  a  likely  man  av  the 
native  persuasion.  I  will  desciml  blushin'  from  my  canopy 
and  say,  "Buy  a  palanquin,  ye  black  scutt?"  I  will 
have  to  hire  four  men  to  carry  me  first,  though;  and  that's 
impossible  till  next  pay-day.' 

Curiously  enough,  Learoyd,  who  had  fought  for  the 
prize,  and  in  the  winning  secured  the  highest  pleasure 
life  had  to  offer  him,  was  altogether  disposed  to  under- 
value it,  while  Ortheris  openly  said  it  would  be  better  to 
break  the  thing  up.  Dearsley,  he  argued,  might  be  a 
many-sided  man,  capable,  despite  his  magnificent  fighting 
qualities,  of  setting  in  motion  the  machinery  of  the  civil 
law — a  thing  much  abhorred  by  the  soldier.  Under  any 
circumstances  their  fun  had  come  and  passed;  the  next 
pay-day  was  close  at  hand,  when  there  would  be  beer  for 
all.  Wherefore  longer  conserve  the  painted  palanquin? 

'  A  first-class  rifle-shot  an'  a  good  little  man  av  your 
inches  you  are,'  said  Mulvaney.  '  But  you  niver  had 
a  head  worth  a  soft-boiled  egg.  'Tis  me  has  to  lie  awake 
av  nights  schamin'  an'  plottin'  for  the  three  av  us. 
Orth'ris,  me  son,  'tis  no  matther  av  a  few  gallons  av  beer 
— no,  nor  twenty  gallons — but  tubs  an'  vats  an'  firkins 
in  that  sedan-chair.  Who  ut  was,  an'  what  ut  was,  an' 
how  ut  got  there,  we  do  not  know;  but  I  know  in  my 
bones  that  you  an'  me  an'  Jock  wid  his  sprained  thumb 
will  get  a  fortune  thereby.  Lave  me  alone,  an'  let  me 
think.' 

Meantime  the  palanquin  stayed  in  my  stall,  the  key 
of  which  was  in  Mulvaney's  hands. 

Pay-day  came,  and  with  it  beer.  It  was  not  in 
experience  to  hope  that  Mulvaney,  dried  by  four  weeks' 


THE  INCARNATION   OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY      99 

drought,  would  avoid  excess.  Next  morning  he  and  the 
palanquin  had  disappeared.  He  had  taken  the  precaution 
of  getting  three  days'  leave  'to  see  a  friend  on  the 
railway/  and  the  colonel,  well  knowing  that  the  seasonal 
outburst  was  near,  and  hoping  it  would  spend  its  force 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  jurisdiction,  cheerfully  gave  him 
all  he  demanded.  At  this  point  Mulvaney's  history,  as 
recorded  in  the  mess-room,  stopped. 

Ortheris  carried  it  not  much  further.  'No, 'e  wasn't 
drunk,'  said  the  little  man  loyally,  '  the  liquor  was  no 
more  than  feelin'  its  way  round  inside  of  'im  ;  but  'e 
went  an'  filled  that  'ole  bloomin'  palanquin  with  bottles 
'fore  'e  went  off.  'E's  gone  an'  'ircd  six  men  to  carry 
'im,  an'  I  'ad  to  'elp  'im  into  'is  nupshul  couch,  'cause  'e 
wouldn't  'ear  reason.  'E's  gone  off  in  'is  shirt  an'  trousies, 
swear  in'  tremenjus — gone  down  the  road  in  the  palanquin, 
wavin'  'is  legs  out  o'  windy.' 

'  Yes,'  said  I,  '  but  where  ?' 

'Now  you  arx  me  a  question.  'E  said  'e  was  goin' 
to  sell  that  palanquin,  but  from  observations  what 
happened  when  I  was  stuffin'  'im  through  the  door,  I 
fancy  Vs  gone  to  the  new  embankment  to  mock  at  Dearsley. 
'Soon  as  Jock's  off  duty  I'm  goin'  there  to  see  if  Vs 
safe — not  Mulvaney,  but  t'other  man.  My  saints,  but 
I  pity  'im  as  'elps  Terence  out  o'  the  palanquin  when 
Vs  once  fair  drunk!' 

'  He'll  come  back  without  harm,'  I  said. 

'  'Corse  'e  will.  On'y  question  is,  what'll  'e  be  doin' 
on  the  road?  Killing  Dearsley,  like  as  not.  'E  shouldn't 
'a  gone  without  Jock  or  me.' 

Reinforced  by  Learoyd,  Ortheris  sought  the  foreman 
of  the  coolie-gang.  Dearsley 's  head  wa.s  still  embellished 
with  towels.  Mulvaney,  drunk  or  sober,  would  have  struck 
no  man  in  that  condition,  and  Dearsley  indignantly  denied 


100  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

tli.it  he  would  have  taken  advantage  of  the  intoxicated 
brave. 

'  I  had  my  pick  o'  you  two,'  he  explained  to  Learoyd, 
'and  you  got  my  palanquin — not  before  I'd  made  my 
profit  on  it.  Why'd  I  do  harm  when  everything's  settled  ? 
Your  man  did  come  here — drunk  as  Davy's  sow  on  a 
frosty  night — came  a-purpose  to  mock  me — stuck  his 
head  out  of  the  door  an'  called  me  a  crucified  hodman. 
I  made  him  drunker,  an'  sent  him  along.  But  I  never 
touched  him.' 

To  these  things  Learoyd,  slow  to  perceive  the  evidences 
of  sincerity,  answered  only,  'If  owt  comes  to  Mulvaaney 
'long  o'  you,  I'll  gripple  you,  clouts  or  no  clouts  on  your 
ugly  head,  an'  I'll  draw  t'  throat  twisty  ways,  man.  See 
there  now.' 

The  embassy  removed  itself,  and  Dearsley,  the  battered, 
laughed  alone  over  his  supper  that  evening. 

Three  days  passed — a  fourth  and  a  fifth.  The  week 
drew  to  a  close  and  Mulvaney  did  not  return.  He,  his 
royal  palanquin,  and  his  six  attendants,  had  vanished  into 
air.  A  very  large  and  very  tipsy  soldier,  his  feet  sticking 
out  of  the  litter  of  a  reigning  princess,  is  not  a  thing  to 
travel  along  the  ways  without  comment.  Yet  no  man  of 
all  the  country  round  had  seen  any  such  wonder.  He 
was,  and  he  was  not;  and  Learoyd  suggested  the  immediate 
smashment  of  Dearsley  as  a  sacrifice  to  his  ghost. 
Ortheris  insisted  that  all  was  well,  and  in  the  light  of 
past  experience  his  hopes  seemed  reasonable. 

*  When  Mulvaney  goes  up  the  road/  said  he,  '  Vs 
like  to  go  a  very  long  ways  up,  specially  when  Vs  so  blue 
drunk  as  'e  is  now.  But  what  gits  me  is  'is  not  bein' 
'eard  of  pullin'  wool  off  the  niggers  somewheres  about. 
That  don't  look  good.  The  drink  must  ha'  died  out  in 
'im  by  this,  unless  'e's  broke  a  bank,  an'  then — Why 


THE  INCARNATION   OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY    101 

don't  'e  come  back?  'E  didn't  ought  to  ha'  gone  off 
without  us.' 

Even  Ortheris's  heart  sank  at  the  end  of  the  seventh 
day,  for  half  the  regiment  were  out  scouring  the  country- 
side, and  Learoyd  had  been  forced  to  fight  two  men  who 
hinted  openly  that  Mulvaney  had  deserted.  To  do  him 
justice,  the  colonel  laughed  at  the  notion,  even  when  it 
was  put  forward  by  his  much-trusted  adjutant. 

*  Mulvaney  would  as  soon  think  of  deserting  as  you 
would,' said  he.  'No;  he's  either  fallen  into  a  mischief 
among  the  villagers — and  yet  that  isn't  likely,  for  he'd 
blarney  himself  out  of  the  Pit  ;  or  else  he  is  engaged  on 
urgent  private  affairs — some  stupendous  devilment  that 
we  shall  hear  of  at  mess  after  it  has  been  the  round  of 
the  barrack-room?.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  shall  have 
to  give  him  twenty-eight  days'  confinement  at  least  for 
being  absent  without  leave,  just  when  I  most  want  him  to 
lick  the  new  batch  of  recruits  into  shape.  I  never  knew 
a  man  who  could  put  a  polish  on  young  soldiers  as 
quickly  as  Mulvaney  can.  How  does  he  do  it?' 

'  With  blarney  and  the  buckle-end  of  a  belt,  sir,'  said 
the  adjutant.  'He  is  worth  a  couple  of  non-commissioned 
officers  when  we  are  dealing  with  an  Irish  draft,  and  the 
London  lads  seem  to  adore  him.  The  worst  of  it  is  that 
if  he  goes  to  the  cells  the  other  two  are  neither  to  hold 
nor  to  bind  till  he  comes  out  again.  I  believe  Ortheris 
preaches  mutiny  on  those  occasions,  and  I  know  that  the 
mere  presence  of  Learoyd  mourning  for  Mulvaney  kills 
all  the  cheerfulness  of  his  room.  The  sergeants  tell  me  that 
he  allows  no  man  to  laugh  when  he  feels  unhappy.  They 
are  a  queer  gang.' 

'  For  all  that,  I  wish  we  had  a  few  more  of  them.  I 
like  a  well-conducted  regiment,  but  these  pasty-faced, 
shifty-eyed,  mealy-mouthed  young  slouchers  from  the 


10'2  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

di-pot  worry  mo  sometimes  with  their  offensive  virtue. 
They  don't  seem  to  have  backbone  enough  to  do  any- 
thing but  play  cards  and  prowl  round  the  married 
quarters.  I  believe  I'd  forgive  that  old  villain  on 
the  spot  if  he  turned  up  with  any  sort  of  explanation 
that  I  could  in  decency  accept.' 

'Not  likely  to  be  much  difficulty  about  that,  sir,' 
said  the  adjutant.  'Mulvaney's  explanations  are  only 
one  degree  less  wonderful  than  his  performances. 
They  say  that  when  he  was  in  the  Black  Tyrone, 
before  he  came  to  us,  he  was  discovered  on  the  banks 
of  the  Liffey  trying  to  sell  his  colonel's  charger  to  a 
Donegal  dealer  as  a  perfect  lady's  hack.  Shackbolt 
commanded  the  Tyrone  then.' 

'Shackbolt  must  have  had  apoplexy  at  the  thought 
of  his  ramping  war-horses  answering  to  that  description. 
lie  used  to  buy  unbacked  devils,  and  tame  them  on 
some  pet  theory  of  starvation.  What  did  Mulvaney 
say?' 

'  That  he  was  a  member  of  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  anxious  to  "sell 
the  poor  baste  where  he  would  get  something  to  h'll 
out  his  dimples."  Shackbolt  laughed,  but  I  fancy 
that  was  why  Mulvaney  exchanged  to  ours.' 

'I  wish  he  were  back,'  said  the  colonel;  'for  I  like 
him  and  believe  he  likes  me.' 

That  evening,  to  cheer  our  souls,  Learoyd,  Orthens, 
and  I  went  into  the  waste  to  smoke  out  a  porcupine. 
All  the  dogs  attended,  but  even  their  clamour — and 
they  began  to  discuss  the  shortcomings  of  porcupines 
before  they  left  cantonments — could  not  take  us  out 
of  ourselves.  A  large,  low  moon  turned  the  tops  of 
the  plume-grass  to  silver,  and  the  stunted  carnelthorn 
bushes  and  sour  tamarisks  into  the  likenesses  of  trooping 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY    103 

devils.  The  smell  of  the  sun  hud  not  left  the  earth, 
and  little  aimless  winds  blowing  across  the  rose-gardens 
to  the  southward  brought  the  scent  of  dried  roses  and 
water.  Our  fire  once  started,  and  the  dogs  craftily 
disposed  to  wait  the  dash  of  the  porcupine,  we  climbed 
to  the  top  of  a  rain-scarred  hillock  of  earth,  and  looked 
across  the  scrub  seamed  with  cattle  paths,  white  with 
the  long  grass,  and  dotted  with  spots  of  level  pond- 
bottom,  where  the  snipe  would  gather  in  winter. 

*  This/  said  Ortheris,   with  a  sigh,  as  he  took  in  the 
unkempt  desolation  of  it  all,  'this  is   sanguinary.     This 
is  unusually  sanguinary.     Sort  o'  mad  country.     Like  a 
grate  when  the  fire's  put  out  by  the  sun.'     He   shaded 
his   eyes   against   the   moonlight.     '  An'    there's   a   loony 
dancin'  in  the  middle  of  it  all.     Quite  right.     I'd  dance 
too  if  I  wasn't  so  downheart.' 

There  pranced  a  Portent  in  the  face  of  the  moon — a 
huge  and  ragged  spirit  of  the  waste,  that  flapped  its  wings 
from  afar.  It  had  risen  out  of  the  earth;  it  was  coming 
towards  us,  and  its  outline  was  never  twice  the  same. 
The  toga,  table-cloth,  or  dressing-gown,  whatever  the 
creature  wore,  took  a  hundred  shapes.  Once  it  stopped 
on  a  neighbouring  mound  and  flung  all  its  legs  and  arms 
to  the  winds. 

*  My,   but    that    scarecrow    'as    got    'em    bad ! '    said 
Ortheris.     '  Seems  like  if  'e  comes  any  furder  we'll  'ave 
to  argify  with  'im.' 

Learoyd  raised  himself  from  the  dirt  as  a  bull  clears 
his  flanks  of  the  wallow.  And  as  a  bull  bellows,  so  he, 
after  a  short  minute  at  gaze,  gave  tongue  to  the  stars. 

<MULVAANEY!  MULVAAXKY!  A-hoo." 

Oh  then  it  was  that  we  yelled,  and  the  figure  dipped 
into  the  hollow,  till,  with  a  crash  of  rending  grass,  the 
lost  one  strode  up  to  the  light  of  the  lire,  and  disappeared 


104  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

to  the  waist  in  a  wave  of  joyous  dogs!  Then  Learoyd 
and  Ortheris  gave  greeting,  bass  and  falsetto  together, 
both  swallowing  a  lump  in  the  throat. 

'You  damned  fool!'  said  they,  and  severally  pounded 
him  with  their  fists. 

'Go  easy!'  he  answered;  wrapping  a  huge  arm  round 
each.  *  I  would  have  you  to  know  that  I  am  a  god,  to  be 
treated  as  such — tho',  by  my  faith,  I  fancy  I've  got  to  go 
to  the  guard-room  just  like  a  privit  soldier.' 

The  latter  part  of  the  sentence  destroyed  the  sus- 
picions raised  by  the  former.  Any  one  would  have 
been  justified  in  regarding  Mulvaney  as  mad.  He  was 
hatless  and  shoeless,  and  his  shirt  and  trousers  were 
dropping  off  him.  But  he  wore  one  wondrous  garment 
— a  gigantic  cloak  that  fell  from  collar-bone  to  heel — of 
pale  pink  silk,  wrought  all  over  in  cunningest  needlework 
of  hands  long  since  dead,  with  the  loves  of  the  Hindu 
gods.  The  monstrous  figures  leaped  in  and  out  of  the 
light  of  the  fire  as  he  settled  the  folds  round  him. 

Ortheris  handled  the  stuff  respectfully  for  a  moment 
while  I  was  trying  to  remember  where  I  had  seen  it 
before.  Then  he  screamed,  '  What  'ai-e  you  done  with 
the  palanquin  ?  You're  wearin'  the  lininV 

'I  am,'  said  the  Irishman,  'an'  by  the  same  token 
the  'broidery  is  scrapin'  my  hide  off.  I've  lived  in  this 
sumpshus  counterpane  for  four  days.  Me  son,  I  begin  to 
ondherstand  why  the  naygur  is  no  use.  Widout  me  boots, 
an'  me  trousies  like  an  openwork  stocking  on  a  gyurl's  leg 
at  a  dance,  I  begin  to  feel  like  a  naygur-rnan — all  fearful 
an'  timoreous.  Give  me  a  pipe  an'  I'll  tell  on.' 

He  lit  a  pipe,  resumed  his  grip  of  his  two  friends,  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  a  gale  of  laughter. 

'Mulvaney,' said  Ortheris  sternly,  ' 'taint  no  time  for 
laughin'.  You've  given  Jock  an'  me  more  trouble  than 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY    105 

you're  worth.  You  'ave  been  absent  without  leave  an' 
you'll  go  into  cells  for  that;  an'  you  'ave  come  back 
disgustin'ly  dressed  an'  most  improper  in  the  liniu'  o' 
that  bloomin'  palanquin.  Instid  of  which  you  laugh. 
An*  we  thought  you  was  dead  all  the  time.' 

'  Bhoys,'  said  the  culprit,  still  shaking  gently,  'whin 
I've  done  my  tale  you  may  cry  if  you  like,  an'  little 
Orth'ris  here  can  thrample  my  inside  out.  Ha'  done 
an'  listen.  My  performinces  have  been  stupenjus:  my 
luck  has  been  the  blessed  luck  av  the  British  Army — 
an'  there's  no  betther  than  that.  I  went  out  dhrunk 
an'  dhrinkin'  in  the  palanquin,  and  I  have  come  buck  a 
pink  god.  Did  any  of  you  go  to  Dearsley  afther  my  time 
was  up  ?  He  was  at  the  bottom  of  ut  all.' 

'Ah  said  so,'  murmured  Learoyd.  'To-morrow  ah'll 
smash  t'  face  in  upon  his  heead.' 

'  Ye  will  not.  Dearsley's  a  jool  av  a  man.  Afther 
Ortheris  had  put  me  into  the  palanquin  an'  the  six 
bearer-men  were  gruntin'  down  the  road,  I  tuk  thought 
to  mock  Dearsley  for  that  fight.  So  I  tould  thim,  "  Go 
to  the  embankmint,"  and  there,  bein'  most  amazin'  full,  I 
shtuck  my  head  out  av  the  concern  an' passed  compliments 
wid  Dearsley.  I  must  ha'  miscalled  him  outrageous,  for 
whin  I  am  that  way  the  power  av  the  tongue  comes  on 
me.  I  can  bare  remimber  tellin'  him  that  his  mouth 
opened  endways  like  the  mouth  av  a  skate,  which  was 
thrue  afther  Learoyd  had  handled  ut;  an'  I  clear  remim- 
ber his  takin'  no  manner  nor  matter  av  offence,  but  givin' 
me  a  big  dhrink  of  beer.  'Twas  the  beer  did  the  thrick, 
for  I  crawled  back  into  the  palanquin,  steppin'  on  me 
right  ear  wid  me  left  foot,  an'  thin  I  slept  like  the  dead. 
Wanst  I  half-roused,  an'  begad  the  noise  in  my  head  was 
tremenjus — roarin'  and  rattlin'  an'  poundin',  such  as  was 
quite  new  to  me.  "  Mother  av  Mercy,"  thinks  I,  "  phwat 


106  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

u  concertina  I  will  have  on  my  shoulders  whin  I  wake!" 
An'  will  that  I  curls  mysilf  up  to  sleep  before  ut  should 
get  hould  on  me.  Bhoys,  that  noise  was  not  dhrink, 
'twas  the  rattle  av  a  thrain! ' 

There  followed  an  impressive  pause. 

'  Yes,  he  had  put  me  on  a  thrain — put  me,  palanquin 
an'  all,  an'  six  black  assassins  av  his  own  coolies  that  was 
in  his  nefarious  confidence,  on  the  flat  av  a  ballast- 
thruek,  and  we  were  rowlin'  an'  bowlin'  along  to  Benares. 
Glory  be  that  I  did  not  wake  up  thin  an'  introjuce  mysilf 
to  the  coolies.  As  I  was  say  in',  I  slept  for  the  betther 
part  av  a  day  an'  a  night.  But  remimber  you,  that  that 
man  Dearsley  had  packed  me  off  on  wan  av  his  rnaterial- 
th rains  to  Benares,  all  for  to  make  me  overstay  my  leave 
an'  get  me  into  the  cells.' 

The  explanation  was  an  eminently  rational  one. 
Benares  lay  at  least  ten  hours  by  rail  from  the  canton- 
ments, and  nothing  in  the  world  could  have  saved 
Mulvaney  from  arrest  as  a  deserter  had  he  appeared  there 
in  the  apparel  of  his  orgies.  Dearsley  had  not  for- 
gotten to  take  revenge.  Learoyd,  drawing  back  a  little, 
began  to  place  soft  blows  over  selected  portions  of  Mul- 
vaney's  body.  His  thoughts  were  away  on  the  embank- 
ment, and  they  meditated  evil  for  Dearsley.  Mulvaney 
continued — 

'  Whin  I  was  full  awake  the  palanquin  was  set  down 
in  a  street,  I  suspicioned,  for  I  cud  hear  people  passin'  an' 
talkin'.  But  I  knew  well  I  was  far  from  home.  There 
is  a  queer  smell  upon  our  cantonments — a  smell  av  dried 
earth  and  brick-kilns  wid  whiffs  av  cavalry  stable- 
litter.  This  place  smelt  marigold  flowers  an'  bad  water, 
an'  wanst  somethin'  alive  came  an'  blew  heavy  with  his 
muzzle  at  the  chink  av  the  shutter.  "It's  in  a  village 
I  am,"  thinks  I  to  mysilf,  "an'  the  parochial  buffalo  is 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY    10? 

investigatin'  the  palanquin."  But  anyways  I  had  no 
desire  to  move.  Only  lie  still  whin  you're  in  foreign 
parts  an'  the  standin'  luck  av  the  British  Army  will 
carry  ye  through.  That  is  an  epigram.  I  made 
ut. 

'  Thin  a  lot  av  whishperin'  divils  surrounded  the 
palanquin.  "  Take  ut  up,"  sez  wan  man.  "  But  who'll 
pay  us?"  sez  another.  "The  Maharanee's  minister,  av 
coorse,"  sez  the  man.  "  Oho  !  "  sez  I  to  mysilf,  "  I'm  a 
quane  in  me  own  right,  wid  a  minister  to  pay  me  expenses. 
I'll  be  an  emperor  if  I  lie  still  long  enough  ;  but  this 
is  no  village  I've  found."  I  lay  quiet,  but  I  gummed 
me  right  eye  to  a  crack  av  the  shutters,  an'  I  saw  that 
the  whole  street  was  crammed  wid  palanquins  an'  horses, 
an'  a  sprinklin'  av  naked  priests  all  yellow  powder  an' 
tigers'  tails.  But  I  may  tell  you,  Orth'ris,  an'  you, 
Learoyd,  that  av  all  the  palanquins  ours  was  the  most 
imperial  an'  magnificent.  Now  a  palanquin  means  a 
native  lady  all  the  world  over,  except  whin  a  soldier  av 
the  Quane  happens  to  be  takin'  a  ride.  '•'  Women  an' 
priests  ! "  sez  I.  "  Your  father's  son  is  in  the  right  pew 
this  time,  Terence.  There  will  be  proceeding."  Six  black 
divils  in  pink  muslin  tuk  up  the  palanquin,  an'  oh  !  but 
the  rowlin'  an'  the  rockin'  made  me  sick.  Thin  we  got 
fair  jammed  among  the  palanquins — not  more  than  fifty 
av  them  —  an'  we  grated  an'  bumped  like  Queenstown 
potato-smacks  in  a  numin'  tide.  I  cud  hear  the  women 
gigglin'  and  squirkin'  in  their  palanquins,  but  mine  was 
the  royal  equipag*1.  They  made  way  for  ut,  an',  begad, 
the  pink  muslin  men  o'  mine  were  howlin',  "  Room  for 
the  Maharanee  av  Gokral-Seetarun."  Do  you  "know  aught 
av  the  lady,  sorr  ?  ' 

'Yes,'  said  I.  'She  is  a  very  estimable  old  queen 
of  the  Central  Indian  States,  and  tlu-y  say  she  is  fat. 


108  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

How  on  earth  could  she  go  to  Benares  without  all  the 
city  knowing  her  palanquin  ?  ' 

'  Twas  the  eternal  foolishness  av  the  naygur-man. 
They  saw  the  palanquin  lying  loneful  an'  forlornsome, 
an'  the  beauty  av  ut,  after  Dearsley's  men  had  dhropped 
ut  and  gone  away,  an'  they  gave  ut  the  best  name  that 
occurred  to  thim.  Quite  right  too.  For  aught  we  know 
the  ould  lady  was  thravellin'  incog — like  me.  I'm  glad 
to  hear  she's  fat.  I  was  no  light  weight  mysilf,  an'  my 
men  were  mortial  anxious  to  dhrop  me  under  a  great  big 
archway  promiscuously  ornamented  wid  the  most  improper 
carvin's  an'  cuttin's  I  iv<T  saw.  Begad  !  they  made  me 
blush — like  a — like  a  Maharanee.' 

'  The  temple  of  Prithi-Devi,'  I  murmured,  remember- 
ing the  monstrous  horrors  of  that  sculptured  archway  at 
Benares. 

'  Pretty  Dcvilskins,  savin'  your  presence,  sorr  !  There 
was  nothin'  pretty  about  ut,  except  me.  'Twas  all  half 
dhark,  an'  whin  the  coolies  left  they  shut  a  big  black 
gate  behind  av  us,  an'  half  a  company  av  fat  yellow 
priests  began  pully-haulin'  the  palanquins  into  a  dharker 
place  yet— a  big  stone  hall  full  av  pillars,  an'  gods,  an' 
incense,  an'  all  manner  av  similar  thruck.  The  gate  dis- 
concerted me,  for  I  perceived  I  wud  have  to  go  forward 
to  get  out,  my  retreat  bein'  cut  off.  By  the  same  token 
a  good  priest  makes  a  bad  palanquin-coolie.  Begad  ! 
they  nearly  turned  me  inside  out  draggin'  the  palanquin 
to  the  temple.  Now  the  disposishin  av  the  forces  inside 
was  this  way.  The  Maharanee  av  Gokral-Seetarun  - 
that  was  me— lay  by  the  favour  av  Providence  on  the 
far  left  flank  behind  the  dhark  av  a  pillar  carved  with 
elephints'  heads.  The  remainder  av  the  palanquins  was 
in  a  big  half  circle  facing  in  to  the  biggest,  fattest,  an' 
most  amazin'  she-god  that  iver  I  dreamed  av.  Her  head 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY    109 

ran  up  into  the  black  above  us,  an'  her  feet  stuck  out 
in  the  light  av  a  little  fire  av  melted  butter  that  a 
priest  was  feedin'  out  av  a  butter-dish.  Thin  a  man 
began  to  sing  an'  play  on  somethin'  back  in  the  dhark, 
an'  'twas  a  queer  song.  Ut  made  my  hair  lift  on  the 
back  av  my  neck.  Thin  the  doors  av  all  the  palanquins 
slid  back,  an'  the  women  bundled  out.  I  saw  what  I'll 
niver  see  again.  'Twas  more  glorious  than  thransforma- 
tions  at  a  pantomime,  for  they  was  in  pink  an'  blue 
an'  silver  an'  red  an'  grass  green,  wid  di'mouds  an' 
im'ralds  an'  great  red  rubies  all  over  thim.  But  that 
was  the  least  part  av  the  glory.  0  bhoys,  they  were 
more  lovely  than  the  like  av  any  loveliness  in  hiven  ;  ay, 
their  little  bare  feet  were  better  than  the  white  hands  av  a 
lord's  lady,  an'  their  mouths  were  like  puckered  roses,  an' 
their  eyes  were  bigger  an'  dhurker  than  the  eyes  av  any 
livin'  women  I've  seen.  Ye  may  laugh,  but  I'm  speakin' 
truth.  I  niver  saw  the  like,  an'  niver  I  will  again.' 

'  Seeing  that  in  all  probability  you  were  watching  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  most  of  the  kings  of  India,  the 
chances  are  that  you  won't,'  I  said,  for  it  was  dawning 
on  me  that  Mulvaney  had  stumbled  upon  a  big  Queens' 
Praying  at  Benares. 

'I  niver  will,'  he  said  mournfully.  'That  sight 
doesn't  come  twist  to  any  man.  It  made  me  ashamed 
to  watch.  A  fat  priest  knocked  at  my  door.  I  didn't 
think  he'd  have  the  insolince  to  disturb  the  Maharanee 
av  Gokral-Seetarun,  so  I  lay  still.  "  The  old  cow's 
asleep,"  sez  he  to  another.  '•  Let  her  be,"  sez  that. 
"  'Twill  be  long  before  she  has  a  calf  !  "  I  might  ha' 
known  before  he  spoke  that  all  a  woman  prays  for  in 
Injia—  an'  for  matter  o' that  in  England  too— is  childlier. 
That  made  me  more  sorry  I'd  come,  me  bein',  as  you  well 
know,  a  childless  num.' 


110  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  his  little 
son,  dead  many  years  ago. 

'They  prayed,  an'  the  butter-fires  blazed  Tip  an'  the 
incense  turned  everything  blue,  an'  between  that  an'  the 
fires  the  women  looked  as  tho'  they  were  all  ablate  an' 
t \vinklin'.  They  took  hold  av  the  she-god's  knees,  they 
cried  out  an'  they  threw  themselves  about,  an'  that 
\vorld-withont-end-amen  music  was  dhrivin'  thirn  mad. 
Mother  av  Hiven  !  ho\v  they  cried,  an'  the  ould  she-god 
grinnin*  above  thim  all  so  scornful  !  The  dhrink  was 
dyin'  out  in  me  fast,  an'  I  was  thinkin'  harder  than  the 
thoughts  wud  go  through  my  head— thinkin'  how  to  get 
out,  an'  all  manner  of  nonsense  as  well.  The  women 
were  rockin'  in  rows,  their  di'mond  belts  clickin',  an'  the 
tears  runnin'  out  betune  their  hands,  an'  the  lights  were 
goin'  lower  an'  dharker.  Thin  there  was  a  blaze  like 
lightniii'  from  the  roof,  an'  that  showed  me  the  inside 
av  the  palanquin,  an'  at  the  end  where  my  foot  was, 
stood  the  livin'  spit  an'  image  o'  mysilf  worked  on  the 
linin'.  This  man  here,  ut  was.' 

He  hunted  in  the  folds  of  his  pink  cloak,  ran  a 
hand  under  one,  and  thrust  into  the  firelight  a  foot- 
long  embroidered  presentment  of  the  great  god  Krishna, 
playing  on  a  flute.  The  heavy  jowl,  the  staring  eye,  and 
the  blue-black  moustache  of  the  god  made  up  a  far-off 
resemblance  to  Mulvaney. 

'The  blaze  was  gone  in  a  wink,  but  the  whole  schamc 
came  to  me  thin.  I  believe  I  was  mad  too.  I  slid  the 
off-shutter  opeii  an'  rowled  out  into  the  dhark  behind 
the  elephint-head  pillar,  tucked  up  my  trousies  to  my 
knees,  slipped  off  my  boots  an'  tuk  a  general  honld  av 
all  the  pink  linin'  av  the  palanquin.  Glory  he,  nt  ripped 
out  like  a  woman's  dhriss  whin  you  tread  on  nt  at  a 
sergeants'  ball,  an'  a  bottle  came  with  ut.  I  tuk  the 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY     111 

bottle  an'  the  next  minut  I  was  out  av  the  dhark  av 
the  pillar,  the  pink  liiiin'  wrapped  round  me  most  grace- 
ful, the  music  thunderin'  like  kettledrums,  an'  a  could 
draft  blowia'  round  my  bare  legs.  By  this  hand  that 
did  ut,  I  was  Khrishna  tootlin'  on  the  flute — the  god 
that  the  rig'mental  chaplain  talks  about.  A  sweet  sight 
I  must  ha'  looked.  I  knew  my  eyes  were  big,  and  my 
face  was  wax-white,  an'  at  the  worst  I  must  ha'  looked  like 
a  ghost.  But  they  took  me  for  the  livin'  god.  The  music 
stopped,  and  the  women  were  dead  dumb  an'  I  crooked 
my  legs  like  a  shepherd  on  a  china  basin,  an'  I  did 
the  ghost-waggle  with  my  feet  as  I  had  done  ut  at  the 
rig'mental  theatre  many  times,  an'  I  slid  acrost  the  width 
av  that  temple  in  front  av  the  she-god  tootlin'  on  the  beer 
bottle.' 

'  Wot  did  you  toot  ? '  demanded  Ortheris  the  prac- 
tical. 

'Me  ?  Oh  ! '  Mulvaney  sprang  up,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word,  and  sliding  gravely  in  front  of  us,  a  dilapidated 
but  imposing  deity  in  the  half  light.  '  I  sang — 

'Only  say 

You'll  be  Mrs.  Brallaghan. 
Don't  say  nay, 
Charmiu'  Judy  Callaguan. 

I  didn't  know  me  own  voice  when  I  sang.  An'  oh  ! 
'twas  pitiful  to  see  the  women.  The  darlin's  were  down 
on  their  faces.  Whin  I  passed  the  last  wan  I  cud  see 
her  poor  little  fingers  workin'  one  in  another  as  if  she 
wanted  to  touch  my  feet.  So  I  dhrew  the  tail  av  this 
pink  overcoat  over  her  head  for  the  greater  honour,  an' 
I  slid  into  the  dhark  on  the  other  side  av  the  temple, 
and  fetched  up  in  the  arms  av  a  big  fat  priest.  All  I 
wanted  was  to  get  away  clear.  So  I  tuk  him  by  his 
greasy  throat  an'  shut  the  speech  out  av  him.  "Out!'' 


112  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

sez  I.  "Which  way,  ye  fat  heathen?"— "Oh!"  sez  he. 
"Man,"  sez  I.  "White  man,  soldier  man,  common 
soldier  man.  Where  in  the  name  av  confusion  is  the  back 
door?"  The  women  in  the  temple  were  still  on  their 
faces,  an'  a  young  priest  was  holdin'  out  his  arms  above 
their  heads. 

'"This  way,"  sez  my  fat  friend,  duckin' behind  a  big 
bull-god  an'  divin'  into  a  passage.  Thin  I  renumbered 
that  I  must  ha'  made  the  miraculous  reputation  av  that 
temple  for  the  next  fifty  years.  "Not  so  fast,"  I  sez,  an' 
I  held  out  both  my  hands  wid  a  wink.  That  ould  thief 
smiled  like  a  father.  I  tuk  him  by  the  back  av  the 
neck  in  case  he  should  be  wishful  to  put  a  knife  into 
me  unbeknownst,  an'  I  ran  him  up  an'  down  the  passage 
twice  to  collect  his  sensibilities!  "Be  quiet,"  sez  he,  in 
English.  "Now  you  talk  sense,"  I  sez.  "Fwhat'll  you 
give  me  for  the  use  av  that  most  iligant  palanquin  I 
have  no  time  to  take  away?" — "Don't  tell,"  sez  he. 
"  Is  ut  like  ?*'  sez  I.  "  But  ye  might  give  me  my  rail- 
way fare.  I'm  far  from  my  home  an'  I've  done  you  a 
service."  Bhoys,  'tis  a  good  thing  to  be  a  priest.  The 
ould  man  niver  throubled  himself  to  dhraw  from  a  bank. 
As  I  will  prove  to  you  subsequint,  he  philandered  all  round 
the  slack  av  his  clothes  an'  began  dribblin'  ten-rupee  notes, 
old  gold  mohurs,  and  rupees  into  my  hand  till  I  could  hould 
no  more.' 

'  You  lie! '  said  Ortheris.  '  You're  mad  or  sunstrook.  A 
native  don't  give  coin  unless  you  cut  it  out  o'  'im.  'Tain't 
nature/ 

'Then  my  lie  an'  my  sunstroke  is  concealed  under 
that  lump  av  sod  yonder,'  retorted  Mulvaney  unruffled, 
nodding  across  the  scrub.  'An'  there's  a  dale  more  in 
nature  than  your  squidgy  little  legs  have  iver  taken  you 
to,  Orth'ris,  me  son.  Four  hundred  an'  thirty-four  rupees 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  KRISHNA  MULVANEY     113 

by  my  reckon iu',  an'  a  big  fat  gold  necklace  that  I  took 
from  him  as  a  remirnbrancer,  was  our  share  in  that 
business.' 

'  An'  'e  give  it  you  for  love?'  said  Ortheris. 

'We  were  alone  in  that  passage.  Maybe  I  was  a 
trifle  too  pressin',  but  considher  fwhat  I  had  done  for  the 
good  av  the  temple  and  the  iverlastin'  joy  av  those  women. 
Twas  cheap  at  the  price.  I  wud  ha'  taken  more  if  I  cud 
ha'  found  ut.  I  turned  the  ould  man  upside  down  at  the 
last,  but  he  was  milked  dhry.  Thin  he  opened  a  door  in 
another  passage  an'  I  found  mysilf  up  to  my  knees  in 
Benares  river- water,  an'  bad  smellin'  ut  is.  More  by  token 
I  had  come  out  on  the  river-line  close  to  the  burnin' 
ghat  and  contagious  to  a  cracklin'  corpse.  This  was  in  the 
ruart  av  the  night,  for  I  had  been  four  hours  in  the  temple. 
There  was  a  crowd  av  boats  tied  up,  so  I  tuk  wan  an' 
wint  across  the  river.  Thin  I  came  home  acrost  country, 
lyin'  up  by  day/ 

'  How  on  earth  did  you  manage  ? '  I  said. 

'  How  did  Sir  Frederick  Roberts  get  from  Cabul  to 
Candahar  ?  He  marched  an'  he  niver  tould  how  near  he 
was  to  breakin'  down.  That's  why  he  is  fwhat  he  is. 
An'  now — '  Mulvaney  yawned  portentously.  '  Now  I  will 
go  an'  give  myself  up  for  absince  widout  leave.  It's  eight 
an'  twenty  days  an'  the  rough  end  of  the  colonel's  tongue 
in  orderly  room,  any  way  you  look  at  ut.  But  'tis  cheap 
at  the  price.' 

'  Mulvaney,'  said  I  softly.  '  If  there  happens  to  be 
any  sort  of  excuse  that  the  colonel  can  in  any  way 
accept,  I  have  a  notion  that  you'll  get  nothing  more 
than  the  dressing-gown.  The  new  recruits  are  in, 
and ' 

'Not  a  word  more,  sorr.  Is  ut  excuses  the  old  man 
wants?  'Tis  not  my  way,  but  he  shall  have  thim.  I'll 


114  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

tell  him  I  was  engaged  in  financial  operations  connected 
wid  a  church/  and  he  flapped  his  way  to  cantonments  and 
the  cells,  singing  lustily— 

'  So  they  sent  a  corp'ril's  file, 
Aud  they  put  me  in  the  gynrd-room 
For  couduck  uubecomin'  of  a  soldier.' 

And  when  he  was  lost  in  the  midst  of  the  moonlight  we 
could  hear  the  refrain — 

'  Bang  upon  the  big  drum,  bash  upon  the  cymbals, 
As  we  go  marchin'  along,  boys,  oh! 
For  although  in  this  campaign 
There's  no  whisk}'  nor  champagne, 
We'll  keep  our  spirits  goin'  with  a  song,  boys!' 

Therewith  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  joyful  and 
almost  weeping  guard,  and  was  made  much  of  by  his 
fellows.  But  to  the  colonel  he  said  that  he  had  been 
smitten  with  sunstroke  and  had  lain  insensible  on  a 
villager's  cot  for  untold  hours  ;  and  between  laughter 
and  goodwill  the  affair  was  smoothed  over,  so  that  he 
could,  next  day,  teach  the  new  recruits  how  to  '  Fear 
God,  Honour  the  Queen,  Shoot  Straight,  and  Keep 
Clean.' 


THE  COUETING  OF  DINAH  SHADD 


What  did  the  colonel's  lady  think  ? 

Nobody  never  knew. 
Somebody  asked  the  sergeant's  wife 

An'  she  told  'em  true. 
When  you  git  to  a  man  in  the  case 

They're  like  a  row  o'  pins, 
For  the  colonel's  lady  an'  Judy  O'Grady 

Are  sisters  under  their  skins. 

Bar  rack- Room  Ballad. 


ALL  day  I  had  followed  at  the  heels  of  a  pursuing  army 
engaged  on  one  of  the  finest  battles  that  ever  camp  of 
exercise  beheld.  Thirty  thousand  troops  had  by  the 
wisdom  of  the  Government  of  India  been  turned  loose 
over  a  few  thousand  square  miles  of  country  to  practise 
in  peace  what  they  would  never  attempt  in  war.  Con- 
sequently cavalry  charged  unshaken  infantry  at  the  trot. 
Infantry  captured  artillery  by  frontal  attacks  delivered 
in  line  of  quarter  columns,  and  mounted  infantry  skir- 
mished up  to  the  wheels  of  an  armoured  train  which 
carried  nothing  more  deadly  than  a  twenty-five  pounder 
Armstrong,  two  Nordenfeldts,  and  a  few  score  volunteers 
all  cased  in  three-eighths-inch  boiler-plate.  Yet  it  was 
a  very  lifelike  camp.  Operations  did  not  cease  at  sun- 
down; nobody  knew  the  country  and  nobody  spared 
man  or  horse.  There  was  unending  cavalry  scouting 
and  almost  unending  forced  work  over  broken  ground. 
The  Army  of  the  South  had  finally  pierced  the  centre  of 


11G  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

the  Army  of  the  North,  and  was  pouring  through  the  gap 
hot-foot  to  capture  a  city  of  strategic  importance.  Us 
front  extended  fanwise,  the  sticks  being  represented  by 
regiments  strung  out  along  the  line  of  route  backwards  to 
the  divisional  transport  columns  and  all  the  lumber  that 
trails  behind  an  army  on  the  move.  On  its  right  the 
broken  left  of  the  Army  of  the  North  was  flying  in 
mass,  chased  by  the  Southern  horse  and  hammered  by 
the  Southern  guns  till  these  had  been  pushed  far  beyond 
the -limits  of  their  last  support.  Then  the  flying  sat 
down  to  rest,  while  the  ekted  commandant  of  the 
pursuing  force  telegraphed  that  he  held  all  in  check 
and  observation. 

Unluckily  he  did  not  observe  that  three  miles  to  his 
right  flank  a  flying  column  of  Northern  horse  with  a 
detachment  of  Ghoorkhas  and  British  troops  had  been- 
pushed  round,  as  fast  as  the  failing  light  allowed,  to 
cut  across  the  entire  rear  of  the  Southern  Army,  to 
break,  as  it  were,  all  the  ribs  of  the  fan  where  they 
converged  by  striking  at  the  transport,  reserve  ammuni- 
tion, and  artillery  supplies.  Their  instructions  were 
to  go  in,  avoiding  the  few  scouts  who  might  not  have 
been  drawn  off  by  the  pursuit,  and  create  sufficient 
excitement  to  impress  the  Southern  Army  with  the 
wisdom  of  guarding  their  own  flank  and  rear  before 
they  captured  cities.  .  It  was  a  pretty  manoeuvre,  neatly 
carried  out. 

Speaking  for  the  second  division  of  the  Southern 
Army,  our  first  intimation  of  the  attack  was  at  twilight, 
when  the  artillery  were  labouring  in  deep  sand,  most  of 
the  escort  were  trying  to  help  them  out,  and  the  main 
body  of  the  infantry  had  gone  on.  A  Noah's  Ark  of 
elephants,  camels,  and  the  mixed  menagerie  of  an  Indian 
transport-train  bubbled  and  squealed  behind  the  guns. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  117 

when  there  appeared  from  nowhere  in  particular  British 
infantry  to  the  extent  of  three  companies,  who  sprang  to 
the  heads  of  the  gun-horses  and  brought  all  to  a  stand- 
still amid  oaths  and  cheers. 

'How's  that,  umpire?'  said  the  major  commanding 
the  attack,  and  with  one  voice  the  drivers  and  limber 
gunners  answered  'Hout  !"  while  the  colonel  of  artillery 
sputtered. 

'All  your  scouts  are  charging  our  main  body,'  said 
the  major.  '  Your  flanks  are  unprotected  for  two  miles. 
I  think  we've  broken  the  buck  of  this  division.  And 
listen, — there  go  the  Ghoorkhas  ! ' 

A  weak  fire  broke  from  the  rear-guard  more  than 
a  mile  away,  and  was  answered  by  cheerful  howlings. 
The  Ghoorkhas,  who  should  have  swung  clear  of  the 
second  division,  had  stepped  on  its  tail  in  the  dark, 
but  drawing  off  hastened  to  reach  the  next  line  of 
attack,  which  lay  almost  parallel  to  us  five  or  six  miles 
away. 

Our  column  swayed  and  surged  irresolutely, — three 
batteries,  the  divisional  ammunition  reserve,  the  baggage, 
and  a  section  of  the  hospital  and  bearer  corps.  The 
commandant  ruefully  promised  to  report  himself  'cut 
up'  to  the  nearest  umpire,  and  commending  his  cavalry 
and  all  other  cavalry  to  the  special  care  of  Eblis,  toiled 
on  to  resume  touch  with  the  rest  of  the  division. 

'We'll  bivouac  here  to-night,' said  the  major,  'I  have 
a  notion  that  the  Ghoorkhas  will  get  caught.  They  may 
want  us  to  re-form  on.  Stand  easy  till  the  transport 
gets  away. ' 

A  hand  caught  my  beast's  bridle  and  led  him  out  of 
the  choking  dust;  a  larger  hand  deftly  canted  me  out  of 
the  saddle;  and  two  of  the  hugest  hands  in  the  world 
received  me  sliding.  Pleasant  is  the  lot  of  the  special 


116  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

correspondent  who  falls  into  such  hands  as  those  of 
Privates  Mulvaney,  Ortheris,  and  Learoyd. 

'An'  that's  ail  right/  said  the  Irishman  calmly.  'We 
thought  we'd  find  you  somewheres  here  by.  Is  there 
anything  av  yours  in  the  transport?  Orth'ris  '11  fetch  ut 
out.' 

Ortheris  did  'fetch  ut  out/  from  under  the  trunk  of  an 
elephant,  in  the  shape  of  a  servant  and  an  animal  both 
laden  with  medical  comforts.  The  little  man's  eyes 
sparkled. 

'If  the  brutil  an'  licentious  soldiery  av  these  parts 
gets  sight  av  the  thruck,'  said  Mulvaney,  making  practised 
investigation,  '  they'll  loot  everything.  They're  bein'  fed 
on  iron-filiii's  an'  dog-biscuit  these  days,  but  glory's  no 
compensation  for  a  belly-ache.  Praise  be,  we're  here  to 
protect  you,  sorr.  Beer,  sausage,  bread  (soft  an'  that's  a 
cur'osity),  soup  in  a  tin,  whisky  by  the  srnell  av  ut,  an' 
fowls  !  Mother  av  Moses,  but  ye  take  the  field  like  a 
confectioner  !  'Tis  scand'lus.' 

"Ere's  a  orficer,'  said  Ortheris  significantly.  'When 
the  sergent's  done  lushin'  the  privit  may  clean  the  pot.' 

I  bundled  several  things  into  Mulvaney's  haversack 
before  the  major's  hand  fell  on  my  shoulder  and  he  said 
tenderly,  '  Requisitioned  for  the  Queen's  service.  A\rolseley 
was  quite  wrong  about  special  correspondents:  they  are 
the  soldier's  best  friends.  Come  and  take  pot-luck  with 
us  to-night.' 

And  so  it  happened  amid  laughter  and  shoutings  that 
my  well-considered  commissariat  melted  away  to  reappear 
later  at  the  mess-table,  which  was  a  waterproof  sheet 
spread  on  the  ground.  The  flying  column  had  taken 
three  days'  rations  with  it,  and  there  be  few  things 
nastier  than  government  rations — especially  when  govern- 
ment is  experimenting  with  German  toys.  Erbscnwurst. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  119 

tinned  beef  of  surpassing  tiuniuess,  compressed  vegetables, 
and  meat-biscuits  may  be  nourishing,  but  what  Thomas 
Atkins  needs  is  bulk  in  his  inside.  The  major,  assisted 
by  his  brother  officers,  purchased  goats  for  the  camp  and 
so  made  the  experiment  of  no  effect.  Long  before  the 
fatigue-party  sent  to  collect  brushwood  had  returned,  the 
men  were  settled  down  by  their  valises,  kettles  and  pots 
had  appeared  from  the  surrounding  country  and  were 
dangling  over  fires  as  the  kid  and  the  compressed  vegetable 
bubbled  together;  there  rose  a  cheerful  clinking  of  mess- 
tins;  outrageous  demands  for  'a  little  more  stuffin'  with 
that  there  liver-wing ; '  and  gust  on  gust  of  chaff  as 
pointed  as  a  bayonet  and  as  delicate  as  a  gun-butt. 

'The  boys  are  in  a  good  temper,'  said  the  major. 
'They'll  be  singing  presently.  Well,  a  night  like  this  is 
enough  to  keep  them  happy.' 

Over  our  heads  burned  the  wonderful  Indian  stars, 
which  are  not  all  pricked  in  on  one  plane,  but,  preserving 
an  orderly  perspective,  draw  the  eye  through  the  velvet 
darkness  of  the  void  up  to  the  barred  doors  of  heaven 
itself.  The  earth  was  a  gray  shadow  more  unreal  than 
the  sky.  We  could  hear  her  breathing  lightly  in  the 
pauses  between  the  howling  of  the  jackals,  the  movement 
of  the  wind  in  the  tamarisks,  and  the  fitful  mutter  of 
musketry-fire  leagues  away  to  the  left.  A  native  woman 
from  some  unseen  hut  began  to  sing,  the  mail-train 
thundered  past  on  its  way  to  Delhi,  and  a  roosting  crow 
cawed  drowsily.  Then  there  was  a  belt-loosening  silence 
about  the  fires,  and  the  even  breathing  of  the  crowded 
earth  took  up  the  story. 

The  men,  full  fed,  turned  to  tobacco  and  song, — their 
officers  with  them.  The  subaltern  is  happy  who  can 
win  the  approval  of  the  musical  critics  in  his  regiment, 
and  is  honoured  among  the  more  intricate  step-dancers. 


120  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

By  him,  as  by  him  who  plays  cricket  cleverly,  Thomas 
Atkins  will  stand  in  time  of  need,  when  he  will  let  a 
better  officer  go  on  alone.  The  ruined  tombs  of  forgotten 
Mussulman  saints  heard  the  ballad  of  Agra  Town,  Tlie 
Buffalo  Battery,  Marching  to  Kabul,  The  long,  Jong  Indian 
Day,  The  Place  where  the  Punkah-coolie  died,  and  that 
crashing  chorus  which  announces, 

Youth's  during  spirit,  manhood's  fire, 

Finn  hand  and  eagle  eye, 
Must  he  acquire  who  would  aspire 

To  see  the  gray  boar  die. 

To-day,  of  all  those  jovial  thieves  who  appropriated 
my  commissariat  and  lay  and  laughed  round  that  water- 
proof sheet,  not  one  remains.  They  went  to  camps 
that  were  not  of  exercise  and  battles  without  umpires. 
Burmah,  the  Soudan,  and  the  frontier, — fever  and  fight, 
— took  them  in  their  time. 

I  drifted  across  to  the  men's  fires  in  search  of  Mul- 
vaney, whom  I  found  strategically  greasing  his  feet  by 
the  blaze.  There  is  nothing  particularly  lovely  in  the 
sight  of  a  private  thus  engaged  after  a  long  day's  march, 
but  when  you  reflect  on  the  exact  proportion  of  the 
'might,  majesty,  dominion,  and  power'  of  the  British 
Empire  which  stands  on  those  feet  you  take  an  interest  in 
the  proceedings. 

'  There's  a  blister,  bad  luck  to  ut,  on  the  heel,'  said 
Mulvaney.  'I  can't  touch  ut.  Prick  ut  out,  little  man.' 

Ortheris  took  out  his  house-wife,  eased  the  trouble 
with  a  needle,  stabbed  Mulvaney  in  the  calf  with  the 
same  weapon,  and  was  swiftly  kicked  into  the  fire. 

'I've  bruk  the  best  av  my  toes  over  you,  ye  grinnin' 
child  av  disruption,'  said  Mulvaney,  sitting  cross-legged 
and  nursing  his  feet;  then  seeing  me,  'Oh,  ut's  you. 


THE   COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  121 

sorr!  Be  welkim,  an'  take  that  maraudin'  scutt's  place. 
Jock,  hold  him  down  on  the  cindhers  for  a  bit.' 

But  Ortheris  escaped  and  went  elsewhere,  as  I  took 
possession  of  the  hollow  he  had  scraped  for  himself  and 
lined  with  his  greatcoat.  Learoyd  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fire  grinned  affably  and  in  a  minute  fell  fast  asleep. 

'There's  the  height  av  politeness  for  you,'  said  Mul- 
vaney,  lighting  his  pipe  with  a  flaming  branch.  '  But 
Jock's  eaten  half  a  box  av  your  sardines  at  wan  gulp, 
an'  I  think  the  tin  too.  What's  the  best  wid  you,  sorr, 
an'  how  did  you  happen  to  be  on  the  losin'  side  this  day 
whin  we  captured  you  ? ' 

'The  Army  of  the  South  is  winning  all  along  the 
line,'  I  said. 

'Then  that  line's  the  hangman's  rope,  savin'  your 
presence.  You'll  learn  to-morrow  how  we  rethreated  to 
dhraw  thim  on  before  we  made  thim  trouble,  an'  that's 
what  a  woman  does.  By  the  same  tokin,  we'll  be 
attacked  before  the  dawnin'  an'  ut  would  be  betther  not 
to  slip  your  boots.  How  do  I  know  that  ?  By  the 
light  av  pure  reason.  Here  are  three  companies  av  us 
ever  so  far  inside  av  the  enemy's  flank  an'  a  crowd  av 
roarin',  tarin',  squealin'  cavalry  gone  on  just  to  turn  out 
the-  whole  hornet's  nest  av  them.  Av  course  the  enemy 
\v  II  pursue,  by  brigades  like  as  not,  an'  thin  we'll  have 
to  run  for  ut.  Mark  my  words.  I  am  av  the  opinion 
av  Polonius  whin  lie  said,  "Don't  fight  wid  ivry  scutt 
for  the  pure  joy  av  fightin',  but  if  you  do,  knock  the 
nose  av  him  first  an'  frequint."  We  ought  to  ha'  gone 
on  an'  helped  the  Ghoorkhas.' 

<But  what  do  you  know  about  Polonius?'  I  demanded. 
This  was  a  new  side  of  Mulvaney's  character. 

'All  that  Shakespeare  iver  wrote  an'  a  dale  more  that 
the  gallery  shouted,'  suid  the  man  of  war,  carefully  lacing 


122  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

his  boots.  '  Did  I  not  tell  you  av  Silver's  theatre  in 
Dublin,  whin  I  was  younger  than  I  am  now  an'  a  patron 
av  the  drama  ?  Otild  Silver  wud  never  pay  actor-man  or 
woman  their  just  dues,  an'  by  consequince  his  comp'nies 
was  collapsible  at  the  last  minut.  Thin  the  bhoys  wud 
clamour  to  take  a  part,  an'  oft  as  not  ould  Silver  made 
them  pay  for  the  fun.  Faith,  I've  seen  Hamlut  played 
wid  a  new  black  eye  an'  the  queen  as  full  as  a  cornu- 
copia. I  remimber  wanst  Hogin  that  'listed  in  the  Black 
Tyrone  an'  was  shot  in  South  Africa,  he  sejuced  ould 
Silver  into  givin'  him  Hamlut's  part  instid  av  me  that 
had  a  fine  fancy  for  rhetoric  in  those  days.  Av  course 
I  wint  into  the  gallery  an'  began  to  fill  the  pit  wid  other 
people's  hats,  an'  I  passed  the  time  av  day  to  Hogin 
walkin'  through  Denmark  like  a  hamstrung  mule  wid  a 
pall  on  his  back.  "Hamlut,"  sez  I,  'there's  a  hole  in 
your  heel.  Pull  up  your  shtockin's,  Hamlut,"  sez  I. 
"Hamlut,  Hamlut,  for  the  love  av  decincy  dhrop  that 
skull  an'  pull  up  your  shtockin's."  The  whole  house 
begun  to  tell  him  that.  He  stopped  his  soliloquishms 
mid-between.  "My  shtockin's  may  be  comin'  down  or 
they  may  not,"  sez  he,  screwin'  his  eye  into  the  gallery, 
for  well  he  knew  who  I  was.  "But  afther  this  per- 
formince  is  over  me  an'  the  Ghost  '11  trample  the  tripes 
out  av  you,  Terence,  wid  your  ass's  bray!"  An'  that's 
how  I  come  to  know  about  Hamlut.  Eyah!  Those 
days,  those  days!  Did  you  iver  have  onendiu'  devilmint 
an'  nothin'  to  pay  for  it  in  your  life,  sorr?" 

*  Never,  without  having  to  pay,'  I  said. 

'That's  thrue!  'Tis  mane  whin  you  considher  on  ut; 
but  ut's  the  same  wid  horse  or  fut.  A  headache  if  you 
dhrink,  an'  a  belly-ache  if  you  eat  too  much,  an'  a  heart- 
ache to  kape  all  down.  Faith,  the  beast  only  gets  the 
colic,  an'  he's  the  lucky  man.' 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  123 

He  dropped  his  head  and  stared  into  the  fire,  finger- 
ing his  moustache  the  while.  From  the  far  side  of 
the  bivouac  the  voice  of  Corbet-Xolau,  senior  subaltern  of 
B  company,  uplifted  itself  in  an  ancient  and  much  appre- 
ciated song  of  sentiment,  the  men  moaning  melodiously 
behind  him. 

The  north  wind  blew  coldly,  she  drooped  from  that  hour, 
My  own  little  Kathleen,  my  sweet  little  Kathleen, 
Kathleen,  my  Kathleen,  Kathleen  O'Moore  ! 

With  forty-five  O's  in  the  last  word:  even  at  that 
distance  you  might  have  cut  the  soft  South  Irish  accent 
with  a  shovel. 

'For  all  we  take  we  must  pay,  but  the  price  is  cruel 
high/  murmured  Mulvaney  when  the  chorus  had  ceased. 

'What's  the  trouble?'  I  said  gently,  for  I  knew  that 
he  was  a  man  of  an  inextinguishable  sorrow. 

'  Hear  now,'  said  he.  '  Ye  know  what  I  am  now.  / 
know  what  I  mint  to  be  at  the  beginuin'  av  my  service. 
I've  tould  you  time  an'  again,  an'  what  I  have  not  Dinah 
Shadd  has.  An'  what  am  I  ?  Oh,  Mary  Mother  av 
Hiven,  an  ould  dhrunken,  untrustable  baste  av  a  privit 
that  has  seen  the  reg'ment  change  out  from  colonel  to 

o  o 

drummer-boy,  not  wanst  or  twice,  but  scores  av  times  ! 
Ay,  scores  !  An'  me  not  so  near  gettin'  promotion  as 
in  the  first  !  An'  me  livin'  on  an'  kapin'  clear  av  clink, 
not  by  my  own  good  conduck,  but  the  kindness  av  some 
orfcer-bhoy  young  enough  to  be  son  to  me  !  Do  I  not 
know  ut  ?  Can  I  not  tell  whin  I'm  passed  over  at  p'rade, 
tho'  I'm  rockin'  full  av  liquor  an'  ready  to  fall  all  in  wan 
piece,  such  as  even  a  suckin'  child  might  see,  bekaze, 
"Oh,  'tis  only  ould  Mulvaney  ! ''  An'  whin  I'm  let  off 
in  ord'ly-room  through  some  thrick  of  the  tongue  an'  a 
ready  answer  an'  the  ould  man's  mercy,  is  ut  sniilin'  1 


1!24  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

feel  whin  I  fall  away  an'  go  back  to  Dinah  Shadd,  tliryin' 
to  carry  ut  all  oil  as  a  joke?  Not  I  !  'Tis  hell  to  me, 
dumb  liell  through  ut  all;  an'  next  time  whin  the  fit 
conn's  I  will  be  as  bail  again.  Good  cause  the  reg'mi'nt 
has  to  know  me  for  the  best  soldier  in  ut.  Better  cause 
have  I  to  know  mesilf  for  the  worst  man.  I'm  only  fit  to 
tache  the  new  drafts  what  I'll  niver  learn  mesilf ;  an' 
1  atn  sure,  as  tho'  I  heard  ut,  that  the  minut  wan  av 
these  pink-eyed  recruities  gets  away  from  my  "  Mind  ye 
now,"  an'  ''Listen  to  this,  Jim,  bhoy," — sure  I  am  that  the 
sergint  houlds  me  up  to  him  for  a  warnin.'  So  I  tache, 
as  they  say  at  musketry-instruction,  by  direct  and  ricochet 
fire.  Lord  be  good  to  me,  for  I  have  stud  some  throuble  !' 

'Lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,'  said  I,  not  being  able  to 
comfort  or  advise.  '  You're  the  best  man  in  the  regiment, 
and,  next  to  Ortheris,  the  biggest  fool.  Lie  down  and 
wait  till  we're  attacked.  What  force  will  they  turn  out  ? 
Guns,  think  you  ?' 

'Try  that  wid  your  lorrds  an'  ladies,  twistin'  an'  turnin' 
the  talk,  tho'  you  mint  ut  well.  Ye  cud  say  nothin'  to 
help  me,  an'  yet  ye  niver  knew  what  cause  I  had  to  be 
what  I  am.' 

'  Begin  at  the  beginning  and  go  on  to  the  end,'  I  said 
royally.  '  But  rake  up  the  fire  a  bit  first.' 

I  passed  Ortheris's  bayonet  for  a  poker. 

'  That  shows  how  little  we  know  what  we  do,'  said 
Mnlvaney,  putting  it  aside.  'Fire  takes  all  the  heart 
out  av  the  steel,  an'  the  next  time,  may  be,  that  our  little 
man  is  fighting  for  his  life  his  bradawl  '11  break,  an'  so 
you'll  ha'  killed  him,  man  in'  no  more  than  to  kape  your- 
self warm.  'Tis  a  recruity's  thrick  that.  Pass  the 
clanin'-rod,  sorr. ' 

I  snuggled  down  abased;  and  after  an  interval  the 
voice  of  Mulvaney  began. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  125 

'  Did  I  iver  tell  you  how  Dinah  Shadd  came  to  be 
wife  av  mine?' 

I  dissembled  a  burning  anxiety  that  I  had  felt  for 
some  months — ever  since  Dinah  Shadd,  the  strong,  the 
patient,  and  the  infinitely  tender,  had  of  her  own  good 
love  and  free  will  washed  a  shirt  for  me,  moving  in  a 
barren  laud  where  washing  was  not. 

'  I  can't  remember,'  I  said  casually.  '  Was  it  before 
or  after  you  made  love  to  Annie  Bragin,  and  got  no 
satisfaction  ? ' 

The  story  of  Annie  Bragin  is  written  in  another  place. 
It  is  one  of  the  many  less  respectable  episodes  in  Mul- 
vaney's  chequered  career. 

'  Before — before — long  before,  was  that  business  av 
Annie  Bragin  an'  the  corp'ril's  ghost.  Niver  woman  was 
the  worse  for  me  whin  I  had  married  Dinah.  There's  a 
time  for  all  things,  an'  I  know  how  to  kape  all  things  in 
place — barrin'  the  dhrink,  that  kapes  me  in  my  place  wid 
no  hope  av  comin'  to  be  aught  else.' 

'  Begin  at  the  beginning,'  I  insisted.  'Mrs.  Mulvaney 
told  me  that  you  married  her  when  you  were  quartered 
in  Krab  Bokhar  barracks.' 

'  An'  the  same  is  a  cess-pit,'  said  Mulvaney  piously. 
'She  spoke  thrue,  did  Dinah.  'Twas  this  way.  Talkin' 
av  that,  have  ye  iver  fallen  in  love,  sorr  ? ' 

I  preserved  the  silence  of  the  damned.  Mulvaney 
continued— 

'Thin  I  will  assume  that  ye  have  not.  /did.  In 
the  days  av  my  youth,  as  I  have  more  than  wanst  tould 
you,  I  was  a  man  that  filled  the  eye  an'  delighted  the 
sowl  av  women.  Niver  man  was  hated  as  I  have  bin. 
Niver  man  was  loved  as  I — no,  not  within  half  a  day's 
march  av  ut !  For  the  first  five  years  av  my  service, 
whin  I  was  what  I  wud  give  my  sowl  to  be  now,  I  tuk 


126  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

whatever  was  within  my  reach  an'  digested  lit — an  that's 
more  than  most  men  can  say.  Dhrink  I  tuk,  an'  ut  did 
me  no  harm.  By  the  Hollow  av  Hiven,  I  cud  play  wid 
four  women  at  wanst,  an'  kape  them  from  findin'  out 
any  thin'  about  the  other  three,  an'  smile  like  a  full-blown 
marigold  through  ut  all.  Dick  Coulhan,  av  the  battery 
we'll  have  down  on  us  to-night,  could  drive  his  team  no 
better  than  I  mine,  an'  I  hild  the  worser  cattle  !  An'  HO 
I  lived,  an'  so  I  was  happy  till  afther  that  business  witl 
Annie  Bragin — she  that  turned  me  off  as  cool  as  a  meat- 
safe,  an'  taught  me  where  I  stud  in  the  mind  av  an  honest 
woman.  'Twas  no  sweet  dose  to  swallow. 

'  Afther  that  I  sickened  awhile  an'  tuk  thought  to  my 
reg'mental  work;  conceiting  mesilf  I  wud  study  an'  be  a 
sargint,  an'  a  major-gineral  twinty  minutes  afther  that. 
But  on  top  av  my  ambitiousness  there  was  an  empty  place 
in  my  sowl,  an'  me  own  opinion  av  mesilf  cud  not  fill 
ut.  Sez  I  to  mesilf,  "Terence,  you're  a  great  man  an' 
the  best  set-up  in  the  reg'mint.  Go  on  an'  get  promo- 
tion." Sez  mesilf  to  me,  "  What  for?  "  Sez  I  to  mesilf. 
"For  the  glory  av  ut  !"  Sez  mesilf  to  me,  "Will  that 
fill  these  two  strong  arrums  av  yours,  Terence?  "  "Go 
to  the  devil,"  sez  I  to  mesilf.  "  Go  to  the  mairied  lines," 
sez  mesilf  to  me.  "  'Tis  the  same  thing,"  sez  I  to  mesilf. 
"  Av  you're  the  same  man,  ut  is,"  said  mesilf  tome;  an' 
wid  that  I  considhered  on  ut  a  long  while.  Did  you 
iver  feel  that  way,  sorr  ? ' 

I  snored  gently,  knowing  that  if  Mulvaney  were  un- 
interrupted he  would  go  on.  The  clamour  from  the 
bivouac  fires  beat  up  to  the  stars,  as  the  rival  singers  of 
the  companies  were  pitted  against  each  other. 

*  So  I  felt  that  way  an'  a  bad  time  ut  was.  Wanst, 
bein'  a  fool,  I  wint  into  the  married  lines  more  for  the 
sake  av  spakin'  to  our  ould  colour-surgint  Shadd  than 


THE   COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  127 

for  any  thruck  wid  women-folk.  I  was  a  corp'ril  then 
— rejuced  aftherwards,  but  a  corp'ril  then.  I've  got  a 
photograft  av  mesilf  to  prove  ut.  "You'll  take  a  cup 
av  tay  wid  us  ?  "  sez  Shadd.  "  I  will  that,"  I  sez,  "  tho' 
tay  is  not  my  divarsion." 

<  ef  'TJwud  be  better  for  you  if  ut  were,"  sez  ould  Mother 
Shadd,  an'  she  had  ought  to  know,  for  Shadd,  in  the  ind  av 
his  service,  dhrank  bung-full  each  night. 

'  Wid  that  I  tuk  off  my  gloves — there  was  pipe- 
clay in  thim,  so  that  they  stud  alone — an'  pulled  up 
my  chair,  lookin'  round  at  the  china  ornaments  an'  bits  av 
things  in  the  Shadds'  quarters.  They  were  things  that 
belonged  to  a  man,  an'  no  camp-kit,  here  to-day  an'  dishi- 
pated  next.  "  You're  comfortable  in  this  place,  sergint," 
sez  I.  "  'Tis  the  wife  that  did  ut,  boy,"  sez  he,  poiritin' 
the  stem  av  his  pipe  to  ould  Mother  Shadd,  an'  she 
smacked  the  top  av  his  bald  head  apon  the  compliment. 
"  That  manes  you  want  money,"  sez  she. 

'  An'  thin — an'  thin  whin  the  kettle  was  to  be  filled, 
Dinah  came  in — my  Dinah — her  sleeves  rowled  up  to 
the  elbow  an'  her  hair  in  a  winkin'  glory  over  her  fore- 
head, the  big  blue  eyes  beneath  twinklin'  like  stars  on  a 
frosty  night,  an'  the  tread  av  her  two  feet  lighter  than 
waste-paper  from  the  colonel's  basket  in  ord'ly-room  whin 
ut's  emptied.  Bein'  but  a  shlip  av  a  girl  she  went  pink 
at  seem'  me,  an'  I  twisted  me  moustache  an'  looked  at  a 
picture  forninst  the  wall.  Niver  show  a  woman  that 
ye  care  the  snap  av  a  finger  for  her,  an'  begad  she'll  come 
bleatin'  to  your  boot-heels  ! ' 

'  I  suppose  that's  why  you  followed  Annie  Bragin  till 
everybody  in  the  married  quarters  laughed  at  you/  said 
I,  remembering  that  unhallowed  wooing  and  casting  oh* 
the  disguise  of  drowsiness. 

'I'm  layin'  down  the  gin'ral  theory  av  the  attack.'  said 


128  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Mulvaney,  driving  his  boot  into  the  dying  fire.  '  If 
you  rend  the  Soldier'*  Pocket  Book,  which  niver  tiny  soldier 
reads,  you'll  see  that  there  are  exceptions.  Whin  Dinah 
was  out  av  the  door  (an'  'twas  as  tho'  the  sunlight  had 
shut  too) — "Mother  av  Iliven,  sergint,"  sez  I,  "but  is 
that  your  daughter  ?"—"  I've  believed  that  way  these 
eighteen  years,"  sez  ould  Shadd,  his  eyes  twinklin' ; 
"  but  Mrs.  Shadd  has  her  own  opinion,  like  iv'ry  woman." 
— "  'Tis  wid  yours  this  time,  for  a  mericle,"  sez  Mother 
Shadd.  "  Thin  why  in  the  name  av  fortune  did  I  niver 
see  her  before  ?  "  sez  I.  "  Bekaze  you've  been  thrapesin' 
round  wid  the  married  women  these  three  years  past. 
She  was  a  bit  av  a  child  till  last  year,  an'  she  shot  up 
wid  the  spring,"  sez  ould  Mother  Shadd.  "  I'll  thrapese 
no  more,"  sez  I.  "  D'you  mane  that?  "sez  ould  Mother 
Shadd,  lookin'  at  me  side-ways  like  a  hen  looks  at  a  hawk 
whin  the  chickens  are  runnin'  free.  "Try  me,  an'  tell," 
sez  I.  Wid  that  I  pulled  on  my  gloves,  dhrank  off 
the  tay,  an'  went  out  av  the  house  as  stiff  as  at  gin'ral 
p'rade,  for  well  I  knew  that  Dinah  Shadd's  eyes  were  in 
the  small  av  my  back  out  av  the  scullery  window.  Faith  ! 
that  was  the  only  time  I  mourned  I  was  not  a  cav'l'ry 
man  for  the  pride  av  the  spurs  to  jingle. 

'  I  wint  out  to  think,  an'  I  did  a  powerful  lot  av 
thinkin',  but  ut  all  came  round  to  that  shlip  av  a  girl 
in  the  dotted  blue  dhress,  wid  the  blue  eyes  an'  the  spar- 
kil  in  them.  Thin  I  kept  off  canteen,  an'  I  kept  to 
the  married  quarthers,  or  near  by,  on  the  chanst  av 
mcetin'  Dinah.  Did  I  meet  her  ?  Oh,  my  time  past, 
did  I  not  ;  wid  a  lump  in  my  throat  as  big  as  my  valise 
an'  my  heart  goin'  like  a  farrier's  forge  on  a  Saturday 
morning?  Twas  "Good  day  to  ye,  Miss  Dinah,"  an' 
"  Good  day  t'you,  corp'ril,"  for  a  week  or  two,  and  divil 
a  bit  further  could  I  get  bekaze  av  the  respect  I  had 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  129 

to  that  girl  that  I  cud  ha'  broken  betuue  finger  an' 
thumb/ 

Here  I  giggled  as  I  recalled  the  gigantic  figure  of 
Din?h  Shadd  when  she  handed  me  my  shirt. 

'  Ye  may  laugh/  grunted  Mulvaney.  '  But  I'm  speakin' 
the  trut',  an'  'tis  you  that  are  in  fault.  Dinah  was  a  girl 
that  wud  ha'  taken  the  imperiousiiL'ss  out  av  the  Duchess 
av  Olonmel  in  those  days.  Flower  hand,  foot  av  shod 
air,  an'  the  eyes  av  the  livin'  mornin'  she  had  that  is 
my  wife  to-day — ould  Dinah,  and  niver  aught  else  than 
Dinah  Shadd  to  me. 

"Twas  after  three  weeks  standin'  off  an'  on,  an'  niver 
makin'  headway  excipt  through  the  eyes,  that  a  little 
drummer  boy  grinned  in  me  face  whin  I  had  admonished 
him  wid  the  buckle  av  my  belt  for  riotin'  all  over  the 
place.  "  An'  I'm  not  the  only  wan  that  doesn't  kape  to 
barricks,"  sez  he.  I  tuk  him  by  the  scruff  av  his  neck, 
— my  heart  was  hung  on  a  hair-thrigger  those  days,  you 
will  onderstand — an'  "Out  wid  ut,"  sez  I,  "or  I'll  lave 
no  bone  av  you  unbreakable." — "Speak  to  Dempsey," 
sez  he  howlin'.  "Dempsey  which?"  sez  I,  "ye  unwashed 
limb  av  Satan." — "Av  the  Bob-tailed  Dhragoons,"  sez 
he.  "He's  seen  her  home  from  her  aunt's  house  in  the 
civil  lines  four  times  this  fortnight." — "  Child  ! "  sez  I, 
dhroppin'  him,  "your  tongue's  stronger  than  your  body. 
Go  to  your  quarters.  I'm  sorry  I  dhressed  you  down." 

'At  that  I  went  four  ways  to  wanst  huntin'  Dempsey. 
I  was  mad  to  think  that  wid  all  my  airs  among  women 
I  shud  ha'  been  chated  by  a  basin-faced  fool  av  a  cav'lry- 
man  not  fit  to  trust  on  a  trunk.  Presintly  I  found  him 
in  our  lines — the  Bobtails  was  quartered  next  us — an'  a 
tallowy,  topheavy  son  av  a  she-mule  he  was  wid  his  big 
brass  spurs  an'  his  plastrons  on  his  epigastrons  an'  all, 
But  he  niver  flinched  a  hair. 


130  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

* "  A  word  wid  you,  Dempsey,"  sez  I.  "  You've  walked 
wid  Dinah  Shadd  four  times  this  fortnight  gone." 

' "  What's  that  to  you  ?  "  sez  he.  "  I'll  walk  forty 
times  more,  an'  forty  on  top  av  that,  ye  shovel- futted 
clod-breukin'  infantry  lance-corp'ril." 

'  Before  I  cud  gyard  he  had  his  gloved  fist  home  on  my 
cheek  an'  down  I  went  full-sprawl.  ''Will  that  content 
you  ?  "  sez  he,  blowin'  on  his  knuckles  for  all  the  world 
like  a  Scots  Greys  orf'cer.  "  Content  ! "  sez  I.  "  For  your 
own  sake,  man,  take  off  your  spurs,  peel  your  jackut,  an' 
onglove.  'Tis  the  beginnin'  av  the  overture  ;  stand  up  !  " 

'  He  stud  all  he  know,  but  he  niver  peeled  his  jacket, 
an'  his  shoulders  had  no  fair  play.  I  was  fightin'  for 
Dinah  Shadd  an'  that  cut  on  my  cheek.  What  hope  had 
he  foruinst  me?  "Stand  up,"  sez  I,  time  an' again  whin 
he  was  beginnin'  to  quarter  the  ground  an'  gyard  high  an' 
go  large.  ''This  isn't  ridin'-school,"  I  sez.  "0  man, 
stand  up  an'  let  me  get  in  at  ye."  But  whin  I  saw 
he  wud  be  runnin'  about,  I  grup  his  shtock  in  my  left  an' 
his  waist-belt  in  my  right  an'  swung  him  clear  to  my 
right  front,  head  undher,  he  hammerin'  my  nose  till  the 
wind  was  knocked  out  av  him  on  the  bare  ground. 
"  Stand  up,"  sez  I,  "or  I'll  kick  your  head  into  your 
chest  ! "  and  I  wud  ha'  done  ut  too,  so  ragin'  mad  I  was. 

' "  My  collar-bone's  bruk,"  sez  he.  "  Help  me  back 
to  lines.  I'll  walk  wid  her  no  more."  So  I  helped  him 
back/ 

'  And  was  his  collar-bone  broken  ? '  I  asked,  for  I 
fancied  that  only  Learoyd  could  neatly  accomplish  that 
terrible  throw. 

'  He  pitched  on  his  left  shoulder-point.  Ut  was.  Next 
day  the  news  was  in  both  barricks,  an'  whin  I  met  Dinah 
Shadd  wid  a  cheek  on  me  like  all  the  reg'mintal  tailor's 
samples  there  was  no  "  Good  mornin',  corp'ril,"  or  aught 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  131 

else.  "An'  what  have  I  done,  Miss  Shadd,"  sez  I,  very 
bould,  plantin'  mesilf  forninst  her,  "  that  ye  should  not 
puss  the  time  of  day  ?  " 

' "  Ye've  half-killed  rough-rider  Dempsey,"  sez  she, 
her  dear  blue  eyes  fillin'  up. 

'"May  be,"  sez  I.  "Was  he  a  friend  av  yours  that 
saw  ye  home  four  times  in  the  fortnight?" 

'  "  Yes,"  sez  she,  but  her  mouth  was  down  at  the 
corners.  "  An' — an'  what's  that  to  you?  "  she  sez. 

'  "Ask  Dempsey,"  sez  T,  purtendin'  to  go  away. 

' "  Did  you  fight  for  me  then,  ye  silly  man  ?  "  she  sez, 
tho'  she  knew  ut  all  along. 

'  "  Who  else  ?"  sez  I,  an'  I  tuk  wan  pace  to  the  front. 

*  "  I  wasn't  worth  ut,"  sez  she,  fingerin'  in  her  apron. 

'  "  That's  for  me  to  say,"  sez  I.     "  Shall  I  say  ut  ?  " 

' "  Yes,"  sez  she  in  a  saint's  whisper,  an'  at  that  I 
explained  mesilf ;  and  she  tould  me  what  ivry  man  that 
is  a  man,  an'  many  that  is  a  woman,  hears  wanst  in  his 
life. 

'"But  what  made  ye  cry  at  startin',  Dinah,  darlin'?" 
sez  I. 

'"Your — your  bloody  cheek,"  sez  she,  duckin'  her 
little  head  down  on  my  sash  (I  was  on  duty  for  the  day) 
an'  whimperin'  like  a  sorrowful  angil. 

'Now  a  man  cud  take  that  two  ways.  I  tuk  ut  as 
pleased  me  best  an'  my  first  kiss  wid  ut.  Mother  av 
Innocence  !  but  I  kissed  her  on  the  tip  av  the  nose  an' 
undher  the  eye  ;  an'  a  girl  that  let's  a  kiss  come  tumble- 
ways  like  that  has  never  been  kissed  before.  Take  note 
av  that,  sorr.  Thin  we  wint  hand  in  hand  to  ould  Mother 
Shadd  like  two  little  childher,  an'  she  said  'twas  no  bad 
thing,  an'  ould  Shadd  nodded  behind  his  pipe,  an'  Dinah 
ran  away  to  her  own  room.  That  day  I  throd  on  roll  in' 
clouds.  All  earth  was  too  small  to  hould  me.  Begad,  I 


132  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

cud  ha'  hiked  the  sun  out  av  the  sky  for  a  live  coal 
to  my  pipe,  so  magnificent  I  was.  But  I  tuk  recruities 
at  squad-drill  instid,  an'  began  wid  general  battalion 
advance  whin  I  sliud  ha'  been  balance-steppin'  them. 
Eyah  !  that  day  !  that  day  ! ' 

A  very  long  pause.     '  Well  ? '  said  I. 

"Twas  all  wrong,'  said  Mulvaney,  with  an  enormous 
sigh.  'An'  I  know  that  ev'ry  bit  av  ut  was  my  own 
foolishness.  That  night  I  tuk  maybe  the  half  av  three 
pints — not  enough  to  turn  the  hair  of  a  man  in  his 
natural  senses.  But  I  was  more  than  half  drunk  wid  pure 
joy,  an'  that  canteen  beer  was  so  much  whisky  to  me.  I 
can't  tell  how  it  came  about,  but  bekaze  I  had  no  thought 
for  anywan  except  Dinah,  bekaze  I  hadn't  slipped  her 
little  white  arms  from  rny  neck  five  minuts,  bekaze  the 
breath  of  her  kiss  was  not  gone  from  my  mouth,  I  must 
go  through  the  married  lines  on  my  way  to  quarters  an' 
1  must  stay  talkin'  to  a  red-headed  Mullingar  heifer  av  a 
girl,  Judy  Sheehy,  that  was  daughter  to  Mother  Sheehy, 
the  wife  of  Nick  Sheehy,  the  canteen-sergint — the  Black 
Curse  av  Shielygh  be  on  the  whole  brood  that  are  above 
groun'  this  day  ! 

' "  An'  what  are  ye  houldin'  your  head  that  high  for, 
corp'ril  ?"  sez  Judy.  "Come  in  an'  thry  a  cup  av  tay," 
she  sez,  standin'  in  the  doorway.  Bein'  an  ontrustable 
fool,  an'  thinkin'  av  anything  but  tay,  I  wint. 

'  "Mother's  at  canteen,"  sez  Judy,  smoothin'  the  hair 
av  hers  that  was  like  red  snakes,  an'  lookin'  at  me  corner- 
ways  out  av  her  green  cats'  eyes.  'Ye  will  not  mind, 
corp'ril  ?  " 

<"I  can  endure,"  sez  I;  ould  Mother  Sheehy  bein'  no 
divarsion  av  mine,  nor  her  daughter  too.  Judy  fetched  the 
tea  things  an'  put  thim  on  the  table,  leanin'  over  me  very 
close  to  get  thim  square.  I  dhrew  back,  thinkin'  av  Dinah. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  133 

' " Is  ut  afraid  you  are  av  a  girl  alone?"  sez  Judy. 

'  "  No,"  sez  I.     "  Why  should  I  be  ?  " 

'"That  rests  wid  the  girl,"  sez  Judy,  dhrawin'  her 
chair  next  to  mine. 

'"Thin  there  let  ut  rest,"  sez  I ;  an'  thinkin'  I'd  been 
a  trifle  onpolite,  I  sez,  "  The  tay's  not  quite  sweet  enough 
for  my  taste.  Put  your  little  finger  in  the  cup,  Judy. 
'Twill  make  ut  necthar." 

'  "  What's  uecthar  ?"  sez  she. 

"'Somethin'  very  sweet,"  sez  I  ;  an'  for  the  sinful  life 
av  me  I  cud  not  help  look  in'  at  her  out  av  the  corner  av 
my  eye,  as  I  was  used  to  look  at  a  woman. 

* "  Go  on  wid  ye,  corp'ril,"  sez  she.  "  You're  a 
flirrt." 

'  "  On  me  sowl  I'm  not,"  sez  I. 

'  "  Then  you're  a  cruel  handsome  man,  an'  that's  worse," 
sez  she,  heaving  big  sighs  an'  lookin'  crossways. 

'  "  You  know  your  own  mind,"  sez  I. 

t  a  "Twud  be  better  for  me  if  I  did  not,"  she  sez. 

'  "  There's  a  dale  to  be  said  on  both  sides  av  that,"  sez 
I,  unthinkiu'. 

'  "  Say  your  own  part  av  ut,  then,  Terence,  darlin'," 
sez  she;  "  for  begad  I'm  thinkin'  I've  said  too  much  or  too 
little  for  an  honest  girl,"  an'  wid  that  she  put  her  arms 
round  my  neck  an'  kissed  me. 

' "  There's  no  more  to  be  said  afther  that,"  sez  I,  kissin' 
her  back  again — Oh  the  mane  scutt  that  I  was,  my  head 
ringin'  wid  Dinah  Shadd  !  How  does  ut  come  about,  sorr, 
that  when  a  man  has  put  the  comether  on  wan  woman, 
he's  sure  bound  to  put  it  on  another?  'Tis  the  same 
thing  at  musketry.  Wan  day  ivry  shot  goes  wide  or  into 
the  bank,  an'  the  next,  lay  high  lay  low,  sight  or  snap, 
ye  can't  get  off  the  bull's-eye  for  ten  shots  runnin'.' 

'That  only  happens  to  a  man  who  has  had  a  good 


134  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

deal   of   experience.       He  does   it  without  thinking,'   I 
replied. 

'  Thunkin'  you  for  the  complimint,  sorr,  tit  may  be  so. 
But  I'm  doubtful  whether  you  mint  ut  for  a  complimint. 
Hear  now  ;  I  sat  there  wid  Judy  on  my  knee  tellin'  me 
all  manner  av  nonsinse  an'  only  sayin'  "  yes"  an'  "  no," 
when  I'd  much  better  ha'  kept  tongue  betune  teeth.  An' 
that  was  not  an  hour  afther  I  had  left  Dinah  !  What  I 
was  thinkin'  av  I  cannot  say.  Presintly,  quiet  as  a  cat, 
ould  Mother  Sheehy  came  in  velvet-dhrunk.  She  had 
her  daughter's  red  hair,  but  'twas  bald  in  patches,  an'  I 
cud  see  in  her  wicked  ould  face,  clear  as  lightnin',  what 
Judy  wud  be  twenty  years  to  come.  I  was  for  jumpin' 
up,  but  Judy  niver 'moved. 

'  "  Terence  has  promust,  mother,"  sez  she,  an'  the  could 
sweat  bruk  out  all  over  me.  Ould  Mother  Sheehy  sat 
down  of  a  heap  an'  began  playin'  wid  the  cups.  "  Thin 
you're  a  well-matched  pair,"  she  sez  very  thick.  "  For 
he's  the  biggest  rogue  that  iver  spoiled  the  queen's  shoe- 
leather,"  an'— 

' "  I'm  off,  Judy,"  sez  I.  "  Ye  should  not  talk  nonsinse 
to  your  mother.  Get  her  to  bed,  girl." 

'"Nonsinse!"  sez  the  ould  woman,  prickin'  up  her 
ears  like  a  cat  an'  grippin'  the  table-edge.  "  'Twill  be 
the  most  nonsinsical  nonsinse  for  you,  ye  grinnin'  badger, 
if  nonsinse  'tis.  Git  clear,  you.  I'm  goin'  to  bed." 

'I  ran  out  into  the  dhark,  my  head  in  a  stew  an'  my 
heart  sick,  but  I  had  sinse  enough  to  see  that  I'd  brought 
ut  all  on  mysilf.  "  It's  this  to  pass  the  time  av  day  to  a 
panjandhrum  av  hell-cats,"  sez  I.  "What  I've  said,  an' 
what  I've  not  said  do  not  matther.  Judy  an'  her  dam 
will  hould  me  for  a  promust  man,  an'  Dinah  will  give  me 
the  go,  an'  I  desarve  ut.  I  will  go  an'  get  dhrunk,"  sez  I, 
"an'  forget  about  ut,  for 'tis  plain  I'm  not  amarrin*  man." 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  135 

'  Ou  my  way  to  canteen  I  ran  against  Lascelles,  colour- 
sergeant  that  was  av  E  Comp'ny,  a  hard,  hard  man,  wid 
a  torment  av  a  wife.  "  You've  the  head  av  a  drowned 
man  on  your  shoulders,"  sez  he;  "an'  you're  goin'  where 
you'll  get  a  worse  wan.  Come  back,"  sez  he.  "  Let  me 
go,"  sez  I.  "I've  thrown  my  luck  over  the  wall  wid 
my  own  hand!" — ''Then  that's  not  the  way  to  get  ut 
back  again,"  sez  he.  "  Have  out  wid  your  throuble,  ye 
fool-bhoy."  An'  I  tould  him  how  the  matther  was. 

'  He  sucked  in  his  lower  lip.  "  You've  been  thrapped," 
sez  he.  "Ju  Sheehy  wud  be  the  betther  for  a  man's 
name  to  hers  as  soon  as  can.  An  ye  thought  ye'd  put 
the  comether  on  her, — that's  the  natural  vanity  of  the 
baste.  Terence,  you're  a  big  born  fool,  but  you're  not 
bad  enough  to  marry  into  that  comp'ny.  If  you  said 
anythin,  an'  for  all  your  protestations  I'm  sure  ye  did — 
or  did  not,  which  is  worse, — eat  ut  all — lie  like  the  father 
of  all  lies,  but  come  out  av  ut  free  av  Judy.  Do  I  not 
know  what  ut  is  to  marry  a  woman  that  was  the  very 
spit  an'  image  av  Judy  whin  she  was  young?  I'm 
gettin'  old  an'  I've  larnt  patience,  but  you,  Terence, 
you'd  raise  hand  on  Judy  an'  kill  her  in  a  year.  Never 
mind  if  Dinah  gives  you  the  go,  you've  desarved  ut  ; 
never  mind  if  the  whole  reg'mint  laughs  you  all  day. 
Get  shut  av  Judy  an'  her  mother.  They  can't  dhrug 
you  to  church,  but  if  they  do,  they'll  dhrag  you 
to  hell.  Go  back  to  your  quarters  and  lie  down," 
sez  he.  Thin  over  his  shoulder,  "  You  must  ha'  done 
with  thim." 

'Next  day  I  wint  to  see  Dinah,  but  there  was  no 
tucker  in  me  as  I  walked.  I  knew  the  throuble  wud 
come  soon  enough  widout  any  handlin'  av  mine,  an' 
I  dreaded  ut  sore. 

'  I    heard  Judy  callin'  me,  but  I  liild  straight   on   to 


136  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

the  Shadds'  quarthers,  an'  Dinah  wud  ha'  kissed  me  but 
I  put  IHT  back. 

'  "  Whin  all's  said,  darlin',"  sez  I,  "  you  can  give  ut  me 
if  ye  will,  tho'  I  misdoubt  'twill  be  so  easy  to  come  by 
then." 

'I  had  scarce  begun  to  put  the  explanation  into 
shape  before  Judy  an'  her  mother  came  to  the  door. 
I  think  there  was  a  verandah,  but  I'm  forgettin'. 

' "  Will  ye  not  step  in  ? "  sez  Dinah,  pretty  and 
polite,  though  the  Shadds  had  no  dealin's  witli  the 
Sheehys.  Old  Mother  Shadd  looked  up  quick,  an' 
she  was  the  fust  to  see  the  throuble  ;  for  Dinah  was 
her  daughter. 

'"I'm  pressed  for  time  to-day,"  sez  Judy  as  bould 
as  brass;  "  an'  I've  only  come  for  Terence, — my  prornust 
man.  'Tis  strange  to  find  him  here  the  day  afther  the 
day." 

*  Dinah  looked  at  me  as  though  I  had  hit  her,  an'  I 
answered  straight. 

'"There  was  some  nonsinse  last  night  at  the  Sheehys' 
quarthers,  an'  Judy's  carryin'  on  the  joke,  darlin'," 
sez  I. 

'  "  At  the  Sheehys'  quarthers  ?  "  sez  Dinah  very  slow, 
an'  Judy  cut  in  wid:  '•'  He  was  there  from  nine  till  ten, 
Dinah  Shadd,  an'  the  betther  half  av  that  time  I  was 
sittin'  on  his  knee,  Dinah  Shadd.  Ye  may  look  and  ye 
may  look  an'  ye  may  look  me  up  an'  down,  but  ye  won't 
look  away  that  Terence  is  my  promust  man.  Terence, 
darlin',  'tis  time  for  us  to  be  comin'  home." 

'  Dinah  Shadd  niver  said  word  to  Judy.  "Ye  left  me 
at  half-past  eight,"  she  sez  to  me,  "an'  I  niver  thought 
that  ye'd  leave  me  for  Judy, — promises  or  no  promises. 
Go  back  wid  her,  you  that  have  to  be  fetched  by  a  girl! 
I'm  done  with  you,"  sez  she,  and  she  ran  into  her  own 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  13? 

room,  her  mother  followin'.  So  I  was  alone  wid  those 
two  women  and  at  liberty  to  spake  my  sentiments. 

'"Judy  Sheehy,"  sez  I,  "if  you  made  a  fool  av  me 
betune  the  lights  you  shall  not  do  ut  in  the  day.  I 
niver  promised  you  words  or  lines." 

'  "  You  lie,"  sez  ould  Mother  Sheehy,  "an'  may  ut  choke 
you  where  you  stand !  "  She  was  far  gone  in  dhrink. 

'  "  An'  tho'  ut  choked  me  where  I  stud  I'd  not 
change,"  sez  I.  "Go  home,  Judy.  I  take  shame  for 
a  decent  girl  like  you  dhraggin'  your  mother  out  bare- 
headed on  this  errand.  Hear  now,  and  have  ut  for 
an  answer.  I  gave  my  Avord  to  Dinah  Shudd  yesterday, 
an',  more  blame  to  me,  I  was  wid  you  last  night  talkin' 
nonsinse  but  nothin'  more.  You've  chosen  to  thry  to 
hould  me  on  ut.  I  will  not  be  held  thereby  for  anythin' 
in  the  world.  Is  that  enough  ?" 

'  Judy  wint  pink  all  over.  "  An'  I  wish  you  joy  av 
the  perjury,"  sez  she,  duckin'  a  curtsey.  "  You've  lost  a 
woman  that  would  ha'  wore  her  hand  to  the  bone  for  your 
pleasure;  an'  'deed,  Terence,  ye  were  not  thrapped.  .  .  ." 
Lascelles  must  ha'  spoken  plain  to  her.  "lam  such  as 
Dinah  is — 'deed  I  am!  Ye've  lost  a  fool  av  a  girl  that'll 
niver  look  at  you  again,  an'  ye've  lost  what  he  niver  had, 
— your  common  honesty.  If  you  manage  your  men  as 
you  manage  your  love-makin',  small  wondher  they  call 
you  the  worst  corp'ril  in  the  comp'ny.  Come  away, 
mother,"  sez  she. 

'But  divil  a  fut  would  the  ould  woman  budge! 
"  D'you  hould  by  that?"  sez  she,  peerin'  up  under  her 
thick  gray  eyebrows. 

'"Ay,  an'  wud,"  sez  I,  "tho'  Dinah  give  me  the 
go  twinty  times.  I'll  have  no  thruck  with  you  or 
yours,"  sez  I.  "Take  your  child  away,  ye  shameless 
woman." 


138  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'"An*  am  I  shameless?"  sez  she,  bringin'  her  hands 
up  above  her  head.  "  Thin  what  are  you,  ye  lyin', 
scharnin',  weak-kneed,  dhirty-souled  son  av  a  sutler? 
Am  /  shameless  ?  Who  put  the  open  shame  on  me 
an'  my  child  that  we  shud  go  beggin'  through  the 
lines  in  the  broad  daylight  for  the  broken  word  of  a 
man  ?  Double  portion  of  my  shame  be  on  you,  Terence 
Mulvaney,  that  think  yourself  so  strong !  By  Mary 
and  the  saints,  by  blood  and  water  an*  by  ivry  sorrow 
that  came  into  the  world  since  the  beginning  the  black 
blight  fall  on  you  and  yours,  so  that  you  may  niver 
be  free  from  pain  for  another  when  ut's  not  your 
own!  May  your  heart  bleed  in  your  breast  drop 
by  drop  wid  all  your  friends  laughin'  at  the  bleedin' ! 
Strong  you  think  yourself  ?  May  your  strength  be 
a  curse  to  you  to  dhrive  you  into  the  divil's  hands 
against  your  own  will  !  Clear-eyed  you  are  ?  May 
your  eyes  see  clear  evry  step  av  the  dark  path  you 
take  till  the  hot  cindhers  av  hell  put  thim  out  !  May 
the  ragin'  dry  thirst  in  my  own  ould  bones  go  to 
you  that  you  shall  niver  pass  bottle  full  nor  glass 
empty.  God  preserve  the  light  av  your  ouderstandin' 
to  you,  my  jewel  av  a  bhoy,  that  ye  may  niver  forget 
what  you  mint  to  be  an'  do,  whin  you're  wallowin' 
in  the  muck  !  May  ye  see  the  betther  and  follow  the 
worse  as  long  as  there's  breath  in  your  body ;  an' 
may  ye  die  quick  in  a  strange  land,  watchin'  your  death 
before  ut  takes  you,  an'  enable  to  stir  hand  or  foot!" 

*  I  heard  a  scufflin'  in  the  room  behind,  and  thin 
Dinah  Shadd's  hand  dhropped  into  mine  like  a  rose- 
leaf  into  a  muddy  road. 

'"  The  half  av  that  I'll  take,"  sez  she,  "an'  more  too  if 
I  can.  Go  home,  ye  silly  talkin'  woman, — go  home  an' 
confess." 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  139 

'"Come  away!  Come  away!"  sez  Judy,  pullin'  her 
mother  by  the  shawl.  "'Twas  none  av  Terence's  fault. 
For  the  love  av  Mary  stop  the  talkin'!" 

'"  An'  you! "  said  ould  Mother  Sheehy,  spinnin'  round 
forninst  Dinah.  "  Will  ye  take  the  half  av  that  man's 
load  ?  Stand  off  from  him,  Dinah  Shadd,  before  he  takes 
you  down  too — you  that  look  to  be  a  quarther-master- 
sergeant's  wife  in  five  years.  You  look  too  high,  child. 
You  shall  wash  for  the  quarther-master-sergeant,  whin  he 
plases  to  give  you  the  job  out  av  charity;  hut  a  privit's 
wife  you  shall  be  to  the  end,  an'  evry  sorrow  of  a  privit's 
wife  you  shall  know  and  niver  a  joy  but  wan,  that  shall 
go  from  you  like  the  running  tide  from  a  rock.  The  pain 
av  bearin'  you  shall  know  but  niver  the  pleasure  av 
giving  the  breast;  an'  you  shall  put  away  a  man-child 
into  the  common  ground  wid  niver  a  priest  to  say  a 
prayer  over  him,  an'  on  that  man-child  ye  shall  think 
ivry  day  av  your  life.  Think  long,  Dinah  Shadd,  for 
you'll  niver  have  another  tho'  you  pray  till  your  knees 
are  bleedin'.  The  mothers  av  childer  shall  mock  you 
behind  your  back  when  you're  wringing  over  the  wash- 
tub.  You  shall  know  what  ut  is  to  help  a  dhrunken 
husband  home  an'  see  him  go  to  the  gyard-room.  Will 
that  plase  you,  Dinah  Shadd,  that  won't  be  seen  talkin'  to 
my  daughter?  You  shall  talk  to  worse  than  Judy  before 
all's  over.  The  sergints'  wives  shall  look  down  on  you 
contemptuous,  daughter  av  a  sergint,  an'  you  shall  cover 
ut  all  up  wid  a  smiling  face  when  your  heart's  burstin'. 
Stand  off  av  him,  Dinah  Shadd,  for  I've  put  the  Black 
Curse  of  Shielygh  upon  him  an'  his  own  mouth  shall 
make  ut  good." 

'She  pitched  forward  on  her  head  an'  began  foam  in'  at 
the  mouth.  Dinah  Shadd  ran  out  wid  water,  an'  Judy 
dh ragged  the  ould  woman  into  the  verandah  till  she  sat  up. 


140  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  "I'm  old  an'  forlore,"  she  sez,  thremblin'  an'  cryin', 
"and  'tis  like  I  say  a  dale  more  than  I  mane." 

'  "  When  you're  able  to  walk, — go,"  says  ould  Mother 
Shadd.  "This  house  has  no  place  for  the  likes  av  you 
that  have  cursed  my  daughter." 

'"Eyah!"  said  the  ould  woman.  "Hard  words 
break  no  bones,  an'  Dinah  Shadd  '11  kape  the  love 
av  her  husband  till  my  bones  are  green  corn.  Judy 
darlin',  I  misremember  what  I  came  here  for.  Can 
you  lend  us  the  bottom  av  a  taycup  av  tay,  Mrs. 
Shadd  ?  " 

'  But  Judy  dhragged  her  off  cryin'  as  tho'  her  heart 
wud  break.  An'  Dinah  Shadd  an'  I,  in  ten  minutes  we 
had  forgot  ut  all.' 

'Then  why  do  you  remember  it  now  ?'  said  I. 

'Is  ut  like  I'd  forget?  Ivry  word  that  wicked  ould 
woman  spoke  fell  thrue  in  my  life  aftherwards,  an'  I  cud 
ha'  stud  ut  all — stud  ut  all — excipt  when  my  little  Shadd 
was  born.  That  was  on  the  line  av  march  three  months 
afther  the  regiment  was  taken  with  cholera.  We  were 
betune  Umballa  an'  Kalka  thin,  an'  I  was  on  picket. 
Whin  I  came  off  duty  the  women  showed  me  the 
child,  an'  ut  turned  on  uts  side  an'  died  as  I  looked. 
We  buried  him  by  the  road,  an'  Father  Victor  was 
a  day's  march  behind  wid  the  heavy  baggage,  so  the 
comp'ny  captain  read  a  prayer.  An'  since  then  I've 
been  a  childless  man,  an'  all  else  that  ould  Mother 
Sheehy  put  upon  me  an'  Dinah  Shadd.  What  do  you 
think,  sorr  ? ' 

I  thought  a  good  deal,  but  it  seemed  better  then  to 
reach  out  for  Mulvaney's  hand.  The  demonstration 
nearly  cost  me  the  use  of  three  fingers.  AVhatever 
he  knows  of  his  weaknesses,  Mulvaney  is  entirely 
ignorant  of  Viis  strength. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH  SHADD  141 

'But  what  do  you  think?'  he  repeated,  as  I  was 
straightening  out  the  crushed  fingers. 

My  reply  was  drowned  in  yells  and  outcries  from 
the  next  fire,  where  ten  men  were  shouting  for  '  Orth'ris/ 
'Privit  Orth'ris/  'Mistah  Or— ther— ris ! '  '  Deah  boy/ 
'Cap'n  Orth'ris/  'Field-Marshal  Orth'ris/  'Stanley,  you 
pen'north  o'  pop,  come  'ere  to  your  own  comp'uy!'  And 
the  cockney,  who  had  been  delighting  another  audience 
with  recondite  and  Rabelaisian  yarns,  was  shot  down 
among  his  admirers  by  the  major  force. 

'You've  crumpled  my  dress-shirt  'orrid/  said  he, 'an' 
I  shan't  sing  no  more  to  this  'ere  bloomiu'  drawin'-room.' 

Learoyd,  roused  by  the  confusion,  uncoiled  himself,  crept 
behind  Ortheris,  and  slung  him  aloft  on  his  shoulders. 

'Sing,  ye  bloomin'  hummin'  bird!'  said  he,  and 
Ortheris,  beating  time  on  Learoyd's  skull,  delivered  him- 
self, in  the  raucous  voice  of  the  Ratcliffe  Highway,  of 
this  song: — 

My  girl  she  give  me  the  go  onst, 

When  I  was  a  London  lad, 
An'  I  went  on  the  drink  for  a  fortnight, 

An'  then  1  went  to  the  bad. 
The  Queen  she  give  ine  a  shillin' 

To  tight  for  'er  over  the  seas  ; 
But  Guv'ment  built  me  a  fever-trap, 

An'  Injia  give  me  disease. 

Clwrus. 

Ho!  don't  you  'eed  what  a  girl  says, 

An'  don't  you  go  for  the  beer  ; 
But  1  was  an  ass  when  I  was  at  grass, 

An'  that  is  why  I'm  here. 

I  fired  a  shot  at  a  Afghan, 

The  beggar  'e  fired  again, 
An'  1  lay  on  my  bed  with  a  'ole  in  my  'ed, 

An'  missed  the  next  campaign! 


142  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

I  up  with  my  gun  at  a  Burman 

Who  carried  a  blootnin'  dak, 
But  the  cartridge  stuck  and  the  bay'nit  bruk, 

An'  all  I  got  was  the  scar. 

Chorus. 

Ho!  don't  you  aim  at  a  Afghan 

When  you  stand  on  the  sky-line  clear  ; 

An'  don't  you  go  for  a  Burman 
If  none  o'  your  friends  is  near. 

I  served  my  time  for  a  corp'ral, 

An'  wetted  my  stripes  with  pop, 
For  I  went  on  the  bend  with  a  intimate  friend.. 

An'  finished  the  night  in  the  'shop.' 
I  served  my  time  for  a  sergeant ; 

The  colonel  'e  sez  'No! 
The  most  you'll  see  is  a  full  C.B.'1 

An'  .  .  .  very  next  night  'twas  so. 

CJioru*. 

Ho!  don't  you  go  for  a  corp'ral 

Unless  your  'ed  is  clear  ; 
But  I  was  an  ass  when  I  was  at  grass, 

An'  that  is  why  I'm  'ere. 

I've  tnsted  the  luck  o'  the  army 

In  barrack  an'  camp  an'  clink, 
An'  I  lost  my  tip  through  the  bloomin"  trip 

Along  o'  the  women  an'  drink. 
I'm  down  at  the  heel  o'  my  service 

An'  when  I  am  laid  on  the  shelf, 
My  very  wust  friend  from  beginning  to  end 

By  the  blood  of  a  mouse  was  myself! 

Chorus. 

Hoi  don't  you  'eed  what  a  girl  says, 
An'  don't  you  go  for  the  beer  ; 

But  I  was  an  ass  when  I  was  at  grass, 
An'  that  is  why  I'm  'ere. 

1  Confined  to  barracks. 


THE  COURTING  OF  DINAH   SHADD  143 

'Ay,  listen  to  our  little  man  now,  singin'  an'  slioutiu' 
as  tho'  trouble  had  niver  touched  him.  D'  you  remember 
when  he  went  mad  with  the  home-sickness?'  said  Mul- 
vaney,  recalling  a  never-to-be-forgotten  season  when 
Ortheris  waded  through  the  deep  waters  of  affliction  and 
behaved  abominably.  '  But  he's  talkin'  bitter  truth, 
though.  Eyah! 

'My  very  worst  frind  from  beginnin'  to  ind 
By  the  blood  av  a  mouse  was  mesilf  1 ' 


When  I  woke  I  saw  Mulvaney,  the  night-dew  gem- 
ming his  moustache,  leaning  on  his  rifle  at  picket,  lonely 
as  Prometheus  on  his  rock,  with  I  know  not  what  vultures 
tearing  his  liver. 


ON  GKEENHOW  HILL 


To  Love's  low  voice  she  lent  a  careless  ear ; 

Her  hand  within  his  rosy  fingers  lay, 

A  chilling  weight.     She  would  not  turn  or  hear ; 

But  with  averted  face  went  on  her  way. 

But  when  pale  Death,  all  featureless  and  grim, 

Lifted  his  bony  hand,  and  beckoning 

Held  out  his  cypress- wreath,  she  followed  him, 

And  Love  was  left  forlorn  and  wondering, 

That  she  who  for  his  bidding  would  not  stay, 

At  Death's  first  whisper  rose  and  went  away. 

Rivals. 


'  OH£,  Ahmed  Din  !  Shafiz  Ullali  ahoo  !  Bahadur  Khan, 
where  are  you  ?  Come  out  of  the  tents,  as  I  have  done, 
and  fight  against  the  English.  Don't  kill  your  own  kin  ! 
Come  out  to  me  !' 

The  deserter  from  a  native  corps  was  crawling  round 
the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  firing  at  intervals,  and  shouting 
invitations  to  his  old  comrades.  Misled  by  the  rain  and 
the  darkness,  he  came  to  the  English  wing  of  the  camp, 
and  with  his  yelping  and  rifle-practice  disturbed  the  men. 
They  had  been  making  roads  all  day,  and  were  tired. 

Ortheris  was  sleeping  at  Learoyd's  feet.  'Wot's  all 
that  ? '  he  said  thickly.  Learoyd  snored,  and  a  Snider 
bullet  ripped  its  way  through  the  tent  wall.  The  men 
swore.  'It's  that  bloomin'  deserter  from  the  Auranga- 
badis,'  said  Ortheris.  'Git  up,  some  one,  an'  tell  'im  Vs 
come  to  the  wrong  shop/ 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  145 

'  Go  to  sleep,  little  man/  said  Mulvaney,  who  was 
steaming  nearest  the  door.  *  I  can't  arise  an'  expaytiate 
with  him.  'Tis  rainin'  entrenchin'  tools  outside.' 

"Tain't  because  you  bloomin'  can't.  It's  'cause  you 
bloomin'  won't,  ye  long,  limp,  lousy,  lazy  beggar,  you. 
'Ark  to'im'owlin'!' 

'  Wot's  the  good  of  argifying  ?  Put  a  bullet  into  the 
swine  !  'E's  keepin'  us  awake  ! '  said  another  voice. 

A  subaltern  shouted  angrily,  and  a  dripping  sentry 
whined  from  the  darkness — 

'  'Tain't  no  good,  sir.  I  can't  see  'im.  'E's  'idin'  some- 
where down  'ill.' 

Ortheris  tumbled  out  of  his  blanket.  'Shall  I  try  to 
get  'im,  sir?'  said  he. 

'  No,'  was  the  answer,  '  Lie  down.  I  won't  have  the 
whole  camp  shooting  all  round  the  clock.  Tell  him  to  go 
and  pot  his  friends.' 

Ortheris  considered  for  a  moment.  Then,  putting  his 
head  under  the  tent  wall,  he  called,  as  a  'bus  conductor 
calls  in  a  block,  "Igher  up,  there  !  'Igher  up!' 

The  men  laughed,  and  the  laughter  was  carried  down 
wind  to  the  deserter,  who,  hearing  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake,  went  off  to  worry  his  own  regiment  half  a  mile 
away.  He  was  received  with  shots  ;  the  Aurungabadis 
were  very  angry  with  him  for  disgracing  their  colours. 

'An'  that's  all  right,'  said  Ortheris.  withdrawing  his 
head  as  he  heard  the  hiccough  of  the  Sniders  in  the  dis- 
tance. 'S'elp  me  Gawd,  tho',  that  man's  not  fit  to  live 
— rnessin'  with  my  beauty-sleep  this  way.' 

'Go  out  and  shoot  him  in  the  morning,  then,'  said 
the  subaltern  incautiously.  'Silence  in  the  tents  now. 
Get  your  rest,  men.' 

Ortheris  lay  down  with  a  happy  little  sigh,  and  in 
two  minutes  there  was  no  sound  except  the  rain  on  the 


146  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

canvas  and  the  all-embracing  and  elemental  snoring  of 
Learoyd. 

The  camp  lay  on  a  bare  ridge  of  the  Himalayas,  and 
for  a  week  had  been  waiting  for  a  flying  column  to  make 
connection.  The  nightly  rounds  of  the  deserter  and  his 
friends  had  become  a  nuisance. 

In  the  morning  the  men  dried  themselves  in  hot  sun- 
shine and  cleaned  their  grimy  accoutrements.  The  native 
regiment  was  to  take  its  turn  of  road-making  that  day 
while  the  Old  Regiment  loafed. 

'  I'm  goin'  to  lay  for  a  shot  at  that  man/  said  Ortheris, 
when  he  had  finished  washing  out  his  rifle.  "E  comes 
up  the  watercourse  every  evenin'  about  five  o'clock.  If 
we  go  and  lie  out  on  the  north  'ill  a  bit  this  afternoon  we'll 
get  'im.' 

'You're  a  bloodthirsty  little  mosquito/  said  Mulvaney, 
blowing  blue  clouds  into  the  air.  'But  I  suppose  I  will 
have  to  come  wid  you.  Fwhere's  Jock  ? ' 

*  Gone  out  with  the  Mixed  Pickles,  'cause  'e  thinks 
'isself  a  bloom  in'  marksman/  said  Ortheris  with  scorn. 

The  'Mixed  Pickles'  were  a  detachment  of  picked 
shots,  generally  employed  in  clearing  spurs  of  hills  when 
the  enemy  were  too  impertinent.  This  taught  the  young 
officers  how  to  handle  men,  and  did  not  do  the  enemy 
much  harm.  Mulvaney  and  Ortheris  strolled  out  of 
camp,  and  passed  the  Aurangabadis  going  to  their  road- 
making. 

'You've  got  to  sweat  to-day/  said  Ortheris  genially. 
'We're  going  to  get  your  man.  You  didn't  knock  'im 
out  last  night  by  any  chance,  any  of  you  ? ' 

'No.  The  pig  went  away  mocking  us.  I  had  one 
shot  at  him/  said  a  private.  'He's  my  cousin,  and  1 
ought  to  have  cleared  our  dishonour.  But  good  luck  to 
you/ 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  147 

They  went  cautiously  to  the  north  hill,  Ortheris 
leading,  because,  as  he  explained,  '  this  is  a  long-range 
show,  an'  I've  got  to  do  it.'  His  was  an  almost  pas- 
sionate devotion  to  his  rifle,  which,  by  barrack-room 
report,  he  was  supposed  to  kiss  every  night  before  turn- 
ing in.  Charges  and  scuffles  he  held  in  contempt,  and, 
when  they  were  inevitable,  slipped  between  Mulvaney 
and  Learoyd,  bidding  them  to  fight  for  his  skin  as  well 
as  their  own.  They  never  failed  him.  He  trotted  along, 
questing  like  a  hound  on  a  broken  trail,  through  the 
wood  of  the  north  hill.  At  last  he  was  satisfied,  and 
threw  himself  down  on  the  soft  pine-needled  slope  that 
commanded  a  clear  view  of  the  watercourse  and  a  brown, 
bare  hillside  beyond  it.  The  trees  made  a  scented  dark- 
ness in  which  an  army  corps  could  have  hidden  from  the 
sun-glare  without. 

"Ere's  the  tail  o'  the  wood,'  said  Ortheris.  "E's  got 
to  come  up  the  watercourse,  'cause  it  gives  'im  cover. 
We'll  lay  'ere.  'Tain't  not  arf  so  bloomin'  dusty 
neither.' 

He  buried  his  nose  in  a  clump  of  scentless  white 
violets.  No  one  had  come  to  tell  the  flowers  that  the 
season  of  their  strength  was  long  past,  and  they  had 
bloomed  merrily  in  the  twilight  of  the  pines. 

'This  is  something  like,'  he  said  luxuriously.  'Wot 
a  'evinly  clear  drop  for  a  bullet  acrost  !  How  much  d'you 
make  it,  Mulvaney?' 

'Seven  hunder.  Maybe  a  trifle  less,  bekaze  the  air's 
so  thin/ 

Wop!  wop!  wop!  went  a  volley  of  musketry  on  the 
rear  face  of  the  north  hill. 

'Curse  them  Mixed  Pickles  firin'  at  nothin'  !  They'll 
scare  arf  the  country.' 

'Thrya  sightin'  shot  in  the  middle  of  the  row,' said 


148  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

Mulvaney,  the  man  of  many  wiles.  *  There's  a  red  rock 
yonder  he'll  be  sure  to  pass.  Quick!' 

Ortheris  ran  his  sight  up  to  six  hundred  yards  and 
fired.  The  bullet  threw  up  a  feather  of  dust  by  a  clump 
of  gentians  at  the  base  of  the  rock. 

'  Good  enough! '  said  Ortheris,  snapping  the  scale  down. 
'  You  snick  your  sights  to  mine  or  a  little  lower.  You're 
always  firm'  high.  But  remember,  first  shot  to  me. 
0  Lordy!  but  it's  a  lovely  afternoon.' 

The  noise  of  the  firing  grew  louder,  and  there  was  a 
tramping  of  men  in  the  wood.  The  two  lay  very  quiet, 
for  they  knew  that  the  British  soldier  is  desperately 
prone  to  fire  at  anything  that  moves  or  calls.  Then 
Learoyd  appeared,  his  tunic  ripped  across  the  breast  by 
a  bullet,  looking  ashamed  of  himself.  He  flung  down  on 
the  pine-needles,  breathing  in  snorts. 

'  One  o'  them  damned  gardeners  o'  th'  Pickles/  said 
he,  fingering  the  rent.  '  Firin'  to  th'  right  flank,  when 
he  knowed  I  was  there.  If  I  knew  who  he  was  I'd  V 
rippen  the  hide  off  an  him.  Look  at  ma  tunic!' 

'That's  the  spishil  trustability  av  a  marksman.  Train 
him  to  hit  a  fly  wid  a  stiddy  rest  at  seven  hunder,  an' 
he  loose  on  any  thin'  he  sees  or  hears  up  to  th'  mile. 
You're  well  out  av  that  fancy-firin'  gang,  Jock.  Stay 
here.' 

*  Bin  firin'  at  the  bloomin'  wind  in  the  bloomin'  tree- 
tops,'  said  Ortheris  with  a  chuckle.  '  I'll  show  you  some 
firin'  later  on.' 

They  wallowed  in  the  pine-needles,  and  the  sun  warmed 
them  where  they  lay.  The  Mixed  Pickles  ceased  firing, 
and  returned  to  camp,  and  left  the  wood  to  a  few  scared 
apes.  The  watercourse  lifted  up  its  voice  in  the  silence, 
and  talked  foolishly  to  the  rocks.  Now  and  again  the 
dull  thump  of  a  blasting  charge  three  miles  away  told 


ON  GREEN  HOW  HILL  149 

that  the  Aurangabadis  were  in  difficulties  with  their 
road-making.  The  men  smiled  as  they  listened  and  lay 
still,  soaking  in  the  warm  leisure.  Presently  Learoyd, 
between  the  whiffs  of  his  pipe — 

'  Seems  queer — about  'im  yonder — desertin'  at  all/ 

"E'll  be  a  bloomin'  side  queerer  when  I've  done  with 
'im/  said  Ortheris.  They  were  talking  in  whispers,  for 
the  stillness  of  the  wood  and  the  desire  of  slaughter 
lay  heavy  upon  them. 

'I  make  no  doubt  he  had  his  reasons  for  desertin'; 
but,  my  faith!  I  make  less  doubt  ivry  man  has  good 
reason  for  killin'  him,'  said  Mulvauey. 

'  Happen  there  was  a  lass  tewed  up  wi'  it.  Men  do 
more  than  more  for  th'  sake  of  a  lass/ 

'  They  make  most  av  us  'list.  They've  no  manner  av 
right  to  make  us  desert.' 

'Ah;  they  make  us  'list,  or  their  fathers  do/  said 
Learoyd  softly,  his  helmet  over  his  eyes. 

Ortheris's  brows  contracted  savagely.  He  was  watch- 
ing the  valley.  '  If  it's  a  girl  I'll  shoot  the  beggar  twice  over, 
an'  second  time  for  bein'  a  fool.  You're  blasted  sentimental 
all  of  a  sudden.  Thinkin'  o'  your  last  near  shave  ?' 

'  Nay,  lad;  ah  was  but  thinkin'  o'  what  had  happened/ 

'An'  fwhat  has  happened,  ye  lumberin'  child  av 
calamity,  that  you're  lowing  like  a  cow-calf  at  the  back 
av  the  pasture,  an'  suggestin'  invidious  excuses  for  the 
man  Stanley's  goin'  to  kill.  Ye'll  have  to  wait  another 
hour  yet,  little  man.  Spit  it  out,  Jock,  an'  bellow 
melojus  to  the  moon.  It  takes  an  earthquake  or  a  bullet 
graze  to  fetcli  aught  out  av  you.  Discourse,  Don  Juan! 
The  a-moorsav  Lotharius  Learoyd!  Stanley,  kape  a  rowlin' 
rig'mental  eye  on  the  valley/ 

'  It's  along  o'  yon  hill  there/  said  Learoyd,  watching 
the  bare  sub-Himalayan  spur  that  reminded  him  of  his 


1">0  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Yorkshire  moors.  Ho  was  speaking  more  to  himself 
than  his  fellows.  'Ay,'  suit!  he,  'Rumbolds  Moor  stands 
up  ower  Skipton  town,  an'  Grecnhow  Hill  stands  up 
ower  1'ately  Brig.  I  reckon  you've  never  heeard  tell  o' 
Green  how  Hill,  but  yon  bit  o'  bare  stuff  if  there  was 
nobbut  a  white  road  windin'  is  like  ut;  strangely  like. 
Moors  an'  moors  an'  moors,  wi'  never  a  tree  for  shelter,  an' 
gray  houses  wi'  flagstone  rooves,  and  pewits  cryin',  an' 
a  windhover  goin'  to  and  fro  just  like  these  kites.  And 
cold!  A  wind  that  cuts  you  like  a  knife.  You  could  tell 
Greenhow  Hill  folk  by  the  red-apple  colour  o'  their  cheeks 
an'  nose  tips,  and  their  blue  eyes,  driven  into  pin-points 
by  the  wind.  Miners  mostly,  burro  win'  for  lead  i'  th' 
hillsides,  followin'  the  trail  of  th'  ore  vein  same  as  a  field- 
rat.  It  was  the  roughest  minin'  I  ever  seen.  Yo'd  come 
on  a  bit  o'  creakin'  wood  windlass  like  a  well-head,  an' 
you  was  let  down  i'  th'  bight  of  a  rope,  fendin'  yoursen 
off  the  side  wi'  one  hand,  carry  in'  a  candle  stuck  in  a 
lump  o'  clay  witli  t'other,  an'  click  in'  hold  of  a  rope  with 
t'other  hand.' 

'An'  that's  three  of  them,'  said  Mulvaney.  'Must  bo 
a  good  climate  in  those  parts.' 

Learoyd  took  no  heed. 

'A7i'  then  yo'  came  to  a  level,  where  you  crept  on 
your  hands  and  knees  through  a  mile  o'  windin'  drift,  an' 
you  come  out  into  a  cave-place  as  big  as  Leeds  Town- 
hall,  with  a  engine  pumpin'  water  from  workin's  'at  went 
deeper  still.  It's  a  queer  country,  let  alone  minin',  for  the 
hill  is  full  of  those  natural  caves,  an'  the  rivers  an'  the 
becks  drops  into  what  they  call  pot-holes,  an'  come  out 
again  miles  away.' 

'Wot  was  you  doin'  there?'  said  Ortheris. 

'I  was  a  young  chap  then,  an'  mostly  went  wi'  'osses, 
leadin'  coal  and  lead  ore;  but  at  th'  time  I'm  tellin'  on  I 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  151 

was  drivin'  the  waggon-team  i'  tli'  big  sumph.  I  didn't 
belong  to  that  country-side  by  rights.  I  went  there 
because  of  a  little  difference  at  home,  an'  at  fust  I  took 
up  wi'  a  rough  lot.  One  night  we'd  been  drinkin',  an'  I 
must  ha'  hed  more  than  I  could  stand,  or  happen  th'  ale 
was  none  so  good.  Though  i'  them  days,  By  for  God,  I 
never  seed  bad  ale.'  He  flung  his  arms  over  his  head,  and 
gripped  a  vast  handful  of  white  violets.  '  Nah,'  said 
he,  'I  never  seed  the  ale  I  could  not  drink,  the  bacca  I 
could  not  smoke,  nor  the  lass  I  could  not  kiss.  Well, 
we  mun  have  a  race  home,  the  lot  on  us.  I  lost  all  th' 
others,  an'  when  I  was  climbin'  ower  one  of  them  walls 
built  o'  loose  stones,  I  comes  down  into  the  ditch,  stones 
and  all,  an'  broke  my  arm.  Not  as  I  knawed  much  about 
it,  for  I  fell  on  th'  back  of  my  head,  an'  was  knocked 
stupid  like.  An'  when  I  come  to  mysen  it  were  mornin', 
an'  I  were  lyin'  on  the  settle  i'  Jesse  Koantree's  house- 
place,  an'  'Liza  Roantree  was  settiu'  sewin'.  I  ached  all 
ower,  and  my  mouth  were  like  a  lime-kiln.  She  gave  me 
a  drink  out  of  a  china  mug  wi'  gold  letters — "A  Present 
from  Leeds  " — as  I  looked  at  many  and  many  a  time  at 
after.  "  Yo're  to  lie  still  while  Dr.  Warbottom  conies, 
because  your  arm's  broken,  and  father  has  sent  a  lad  to 
fetch  him.  He  found  yo'  when  he  was  goin'  to  work, 
an'  carried  you  here  on  his  back,"  sez  she.  "  Oa  ! "  sez 
I;  an'  I  shet  my  eyes,  for  I  felt  ashamed  o'  mysen. 
"Father's  gone  to  his  work  these  three  hours,  an'  he 
said  he'd  tell  'em  to  get  somebody  to  drive  the  tram." 
The  clock  ticked,  an'  a  bee  corned  in  the  house,  an'  they 
rung  i'  my  head  like  mill-wheels.  An'  she  give  me 
another  drink  an'  settled  the  pillow.  "  Eli,  but  yo're 
young  to  be  getten  drunk  an'  such  Jike,  but  yo'  won't  do 
it  again,  will  yo'?" — "  Noa,"  sez  I,  "I  wouldn't  if  she'd 
not  but  stop  they  mill-wheels  chitterin'." 


152  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'Faith,  it's  a  good  thing  to  be  nursed  by  a  woman 
when  you're  sick  !'  said  Mulvaney.  'Dir'  cheap  at  the 
price  av  twenty  broken  heads.' 

Ortheris  turned  to  frown  across  the  valley.  He 
had  not  been  nursed  by  many  women  in  his  life. 

'An'  then  Dr.  Warbottom  comes  rid  in'  up,  an'  Jesse 
Koantree  along  with  'im.  He  was  a  high-larned  doctor, 
but  he  talked  wi'  poor  folk  same  as  theirsens.  "What's 
ta  bin  agaate  on  naa  ?  "  he  sings  out.  "  Brekkin'  tha  thick 
head  ?"  An'  he  felt  me  all  ovver.  "That's none  broken. 
Tha'  nobbut  knocked  a  bit  sillier  than  ordinary,  an'  that's 
daaft  encaf."  An'  soa  he  went  on,  callin'  me  all  the  names 
he  could  think  on,  but  settin'  my  arm,  wi'  Jesse's  help,  as 
careful  as  could  be.  "  Yo'  mun  let  the  big  oaf  bide  here 
a  bit,  Jesse,"  he  says,  when  he  bed  strapped  me  up  an' 
given  me  a  dose  o'  physic;  "an'  you  an'  Liza  will  tend 
him,  though  he's  scarcelins  worth  the  trouble.  An'  tha'll 
lose  tha  work,"  sez  he,  "  an'  tha'll  be  upon  th'  Sick  Club 
for  a  couple  o'  months  an'  more.  Doesn't  tha  think  tha's 
a  fool?"' 

'But  whin  was  a  young  man,  high  or  low,  the  other 
av  a  fool,  I'd  like  to  know  ? '  said  Mulvaney.  '  Sure, 
folly's  the  only  safe  way  to  wisdom,  for  I've  thried  it.' 

'Wisdom!'  grinned  Ortheris,  scanning  his  comrades 
with  uplifted  chin.  '  You're  bloomin'  Solomons,  you  two, 
ain't  you  ? ' 

Learoyd  went  calmly  on,  with  a  steady  eye  like  an  ox 
chewing  the  cud. 

'And  that  was  how  I  come  to  know  'Liza  Roan  tree. 
There's  some  tunes  as  she  used  to  sing — aw,  she  were 
always  singin' — that  fetches  Greenhow  Hill  before  my 
eyes  as  fair  as  yon  brow  across  there.  And  she  would 
learn  me  to  sing  bass,  an'  I  was  to  go  to  th'  chapel  wi' 
'em  where  Jesse  and  she  led  the  singin',  th'  old  man  playin' 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  153 

the  fiddle.  He  was  a  strange  chap,  old  Jesse,  fair  mad 
wi'  music,  an'  he  made  me  promise  to  learn  the  big  fiddle 
when  my  arm  was  better.  It  belonged  to  him,  and  it 
stood  up  in  a  big  case  alongside  o'  th'  eight-day  clock,  but 
Willie  Satterthwaite,  as  played  it  in  the  chapel,  had  getteu 
deaf  as  a  door-post,  and  it  vexed  Jesse,  as  he  had  to  rap 
him  ower  his  head  wi'  th'  fiddle-stick  to  make  him  give 
ower  sawin'  at  th'  right  time. 

'  But  there  was  a  black  drop  in  it  all,  an'  it  was  a  man 
in  a  black  coat  that  brought  it.  When  th'  Primitive 
Methodist  preacher  came  to  Greenhow,  he  would  always 
stop  wi'  Jesse  Roantree,  an'  he  laid  hold  of  me  from  th' 
beginning.  It  seemed  I  wor  a  soul  to  be  saved,  and  he 
meaned  to  do  it.  At  th'  same  time  I  jealoused  'at  he  were 
keen  o'  savin'  'Liza  Roantree's  soul  as  well,  and  I  could 
ha'  killed  him  many  a  time.  An'  this  went  on  till  one 
day  I  broke  out,  an'  borrowed  th'  brass  for  a  drink  from 
'Liza.  After  fower  days  I  come  back,  wi'  my  tail  between 
my  legs,  just  to  see  'Liza  again.  But  Jesse  were  at  home 
an'  th'  preacher — th'  Reverend  Amos  Barraclough.  'Liza 
said  naught,  but  a  bit  o'  red  come  into  her  face  as  were 
white  of  a  regular  thing.  Says  Jesse,  tryin'  his  best  to 
be  civil,  "  Nay,  lad,  it's  like  this.  You've  gotten  to  choose 
which  way  it's  goin'  to  be.  I'll  ha'  nobody  across  ma 
doorstep  as  goes  a-drinkin',  an'  borrows  my  lass's  money 
to  spend  i'  their  drink.  Ilo'd  tha  tongue,  'Liza,"  sez  he, 
when  she  wanted  to  put  in  a  word  'at  I  were  welcome 
to  th1  brass,  and  she  were  none  afraid  that  I  wouldn't  pay 
it  back.  Then  the  Reverend  cuts  in,  seein'  as  Jesse  were 
losin'  his  temper,  an'  they  fair  beat  me  among  them. 
But  it  were  'Liza,  as  looked  an'  said  naught,  as  did  more 
than  either  o'  their  tongues,  an'  soa  I  concluded  to  get 
converted.' 

'Fwhat?'  shouted  Mulvaney.    Then,  checking  himself, 


154  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

he  said  softly,  '  Let  be  !  Let  be  !  Sure  the  Blessed  Virgin 
is  the  mother  of  all  religion  an'  most  women;  an'  there's 
a  dale  av  piety  in  a  girl  if  the  men  would  only  let  ut  stay 
there.  I'd  ha'  been  converted  myself  under  the  circum- 
stances.' 

'  Nay,  but,'  pursued  Learoyd  with  a  blush,  '  I  meaned 
it.' 

Ortheris  laughed  as  loudly  as  he  dared,  having  regard 
to  his  business  at  the  time. 

'  Ay,  Ortheris,  you  may  laugh,  but  you  didn't  know 
yon  preacher  Barraclough — a  little  white-faced  chap,  wi' 
a  voice  as  'ud  wile  a  bird  off  an  a  bush,  and  a  way  o' 
layin'  hold  of  folks  as  made  them  think  they'd  never 
had  a  live  man  for  a  friend  before.  You  never  saw  him, 
an' — an' — you  never  seed  'Liza  Roantree — 7iever  seed 
'Liza  Roantree.  .  .  .  Happen  it  was  as  much  'Liza  as  th' 
preacher  and  her  father,  but  anyways  they  all  meaned  it, 
an*  I  was  fair  shamed  o'  mysen,  an'  so  I  become  what 
they  call  a  changed  character.  And  when  I  think 
on,  it's  hard  to  believe  as  yon  chap  going  to  prayer- 
meetin's,  chapel,  and  class-meetin's  were  me.  But  I 
never  had  naught  to  say  for  mysen,  though  there  was  a 
deal  o'  shoutin',  and  old  Sammy  Strother,  as  were  almost 
clemmed  to  death  and  doubled  up  with  the  rheumatics, 
would  sing  out,  "Joyful  !  Joyful  !  "  and  'at  it  were  better 
to  go  up  to  heaven  in  a  coal-basket  than  down  to  hell  i' 
a  coach  an'  six.  And  he  would  put  his  poor  old  claw  on 
my  shoulder,  sayin',  "  Doesn't  tha  feel  it,  tha  great  lump  ? 
Doesn't  tha  feel  it?"  An'  sometimes  I  thought  I  did, 
and  then  again  I  thought  I  didn't,  an'  how  was 
that  ?  ' 

'The  iverlastin'  nature  av  mankind,'  said  Mulvaney. 
'  An',  furthermore,  I  misdoubt  you  were  built  for  the 
Primitive  Methodians.  They're  a  new  corps  anyways.  L 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  155 

hold  by  the  Ould  Church,  for  she's  the  mother  of  them 
all — ay,  an'  the  father,  too.  I  like  her  bekaze  she's  most 
remarkable  regimental  in  her  fittings.  I  may  die  in 
Honolulu,  Nova  Zambra,  or  Cape  Cayenne,  but  wherever 
I  die,  me  bein'  fwhat  I  am,  an'  a  priest  handy,  I  go  under 
the  same  orders  an'  the  same  words  an'  the  same  unction 
as  tho'  the  Pope  himself  come  down  from  the  roof  av 
St.  Peter's  to  see  me  off.  There's  neither  high  nor  low,  nor 
broad  nor  deep,  nor  betwixt  nor  between  wid  her,  an' 
that's  what  I  like.  But  mark  you,  she's  no  manner  av 
Church  for  a  wake  man,  bekaze  she  takes  the  body  and 
the  soul  av  him,  onless  he  has  his  proper  work  to  do.  I 
remember  when  my  father  died  that  was  three  months 
comin'  to  his  grave;  begad  he'd  ha'  sold  the  shebeen 
above  our  heads  for  ten  minutes'  quittance  of  purgathory. 
An'  he  did  all  he  could.  That's  why  I  say  tit  takes  a 
strong  man  to  deal  with  the  Ould  Church,  an'  for  that 
reason  you'll  find  so  many  women  go  there.  An'  that 
same's  a  conundrum.' 

'  Wot's  the  use  o'  worritin'  'bout  these  things  ? '  said 
Ortheris.  *  You're  bound  to  find  all  out  quicker  nor  you 
want  to,  any'ow.'  He  jerked  the  cartridge  out  of  the 
breech-block  into  the  palm  of  his  hand.  "Ere's  my 
chaplain,'  he  said,  and  made  the  venomous  black-headed 
bullet  bow  like  a  marionette.  "E's  goiu'  to  teach  a  man 
all  about  which  is  which,  an'  wot's  true,  after  all,  before 
sundown.  But  wot  'appened  after  that,  Jock?' 

'  There  was  one  thing  they  boggled  at,  and  almost  shut 
th'  gate  i'  my  face  for,  and  that  were  my  dog  Blast,  th' 
only  one  saved  out  o'  a  litter  o'  pups  as  was  blowed  up 
when  a  keg  o'  minin'  powder  loosed  off  in  th'  store-keeper's 
hut.  They  liked  his  name  no  better  than  his  business, 
which  were  fightin'  every  dog  lie  corned  across  ;  a  rare  good 
dog,  wi'  spots  o'  black  and  pink  on  his  face,  one  ear  gone, 


156  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

and  lame  o'  one  side  wi'  being  driven  in  a  basket  through 
an  iron  roof,  a  matter  of  half  a  mile. 

'They  said  I  man  give  him  up  'cause  he  were  worldly 
and  low;  and  would  I  let  mysen  be  shut  out  of  heaven 
for  the  sake  on  a  dog?  "  Nay,"  says  I,  "  if  th'  door  isn't 
wide  enough  for  th'  pair  on  us,  we'll  stop  outside,  for  we'll 
none  be  parted."  And  th'  preacher  spoke  up  for  Blast, 
as  had  a  likin'  for  him  from  th'  first— I  reckon  that  was 
why  I  come  to  like  th'  preacher — and  wouldn't  hear  o' 
changin'  his  name  to  Bless,  as  some  o'  them  wanted.  So 
th'  pair  on  us  became  reg'lar  chapel-members.  But  it's 
hard  for  a  young  chap  o'  my  build  to  cut  traces  from  the 
world,  th'  flesh,  an'  the  devil  all  uv  a  heap.  Yet  I  stuck 
to  it  for  a  long  time,  while  th'  lads  as  used  to  stand  about 
th'  town-end  an'  lean  ower  th'  bridge,  spittin'  into  th' 
beck  o' a  Sunday,  would  call  after  me,  "Sitha,  Learoyd; 
when's  ta  bean  to  preach,  'cause  we're  comin'  to  hear  tha." 
— "  Ho'd  tha  jaw.  He  hasn't  getten  th'  white  choaker 
on  ta  morn,"  another  lad  would  say,  and  I  had  to  double 
my  fists  hard  i'  th'  bottom  of  my  Sunday  coat,  and  say  to 
mysen,  "  If  'twere  Monday  and  I  warn't  a  member  o'  the 
Primitive  Methodists,  I'd  leather  all  th'  lot  of  yond'." 
That  was  th'  hardest  of  all — to  know  that  I  could  fight 
and  I  mustn't  fight.' 

Sympathetic  grunts  from  Mulvaney. 

'  So  what  wi'  singin',  practising  and  class-meetin's,  and 
th'  big  fiddle,  as  he  made  me  take  between  my  knees,  I 
spent  a  deal  o'  time  i'  Jesse  Koantree's  house-place.  But 
often  as  I  was  there,  th'  preacher  fared  to  me  to  go  oftener, 
and  both  th'  old  man  an'  th'  young  woman  were  pleased  to 
have  him.  He  lived  i'  Pately  Brig,  as  were  a  goodish 
step  off,  but  he  come.  He  come  all  the  same.  I  liked 
him  as  well  or  better  as  any  man  I'd  ever  seen  i'  one 
way,  and  yet  I  hated  him  wi'  all  my  heart  i'  t'other,  and 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  157 

we  watched  each  other  like  cat  and  mouse,  but  civil  as 
you  please,  for  I  was  on  my  best  behaviour,  and  he  was 
that  fair  and  open  that  I  was  bound  to  be  fair  with  him. 
Rare  good  company  he  was,  if  I  hadn't  wanted  to  wring 
his  cliver  little  neck  half  of  the  time.  Often  and  often 
when  he  was  goin'  from  Jesse's  I'd  set  him  a  bit  on 
the  road.' 

'See  'im  'ome,  you  mean  ?'  said  Ortheris. 

'  Ay.  It's  a  way  we  have  i'  Yorkshire  o'  seein'  friends 
off.  You  was  a  friend  as  I  didn't  want  to  come  back,  and 
he  didn't  want  me  to  come  back  neither,  and  so  we'd  walk 
together  towards  Pately,  and  then  he'd  set  me  back  again, 
and  there  we'd  be  wal  two  o'clock  i'  the  mornin'  settin' 
each  other  to  an'  fro  like  a  blasted  pair  o'  pendulums 
twixt  hill  and  valley,  long  after  th'  light  had  gone  out  i' 
'Liza's  window,  as  both  on  us  had  been  looking  at,  pretend- 
ing to  watch  the  moon.' 

'Ah!'  broke  in  Mulvaney,  'ye'd  no  chanst  against  the 
maraudin'  psalm-singer.  They'll  take  the  airs  an'  the 
graces  instid  av  the  man  nine  times  out  av  ten,  an' 
they  only  find  the  blunder  later — the  wimmen.' 

'  That's  just  where  yo're  wrong,' said  Learoyd,  reddening 
under  the  freckled  tan  of  his  cheeks.  'I  was  th'  first  wi' 
Liza,  an'  yo'd  think  that  were  enough.  But  th'  parson 
were  a  steady-gaited  sort  o'  chap,  and  Jesse  were  strong 
o' his  side,  and  all  th'  women  i'  the  congregation  dinned 
it  to  'Liza  'at  she  were  fair  fond  to  take  up  wi'  a  wastrel 
ne'er-do-weel  like  me,  as  was  scarcelins  respectable  an' 
a  fighting  dog  at  his  heels.  It  was  all  very  well  for 
her  to  be  doing  me  good  and  saving  my  soul,  but  she 
must  mind  as  she  didn't  do  herself  harm.  They  talk  o' 
rich  folk  bcin'  stuck  up  an'  genteel,  but  for  cast-iron 
pride  o'  respectability  there's  naught  like  poor  chapel  folk. 
It's  as  cold  as  th'  wind  o'  CJreenho\v  Hill — ay,  and  colder, 


158  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

for  'twill  never  change.  And  now  I  come  to  think  on  it, 
one  at  strangest  things  I  know  is  'at  they  couldn't  abide 
th'  thought  o'  soldiering.  There's  a  vast  o'  fightin'  i'  th' 
Bible,  and  there's  a  deal  of  Methodists  i'  th'  army;  but  to 
hear  chapel  folk  talk  yo'd  think  that  soldierin'  were  next 
door,  an'  t'other  side,  to  hangin'.  I'  their  tneetin's  all 
their  talk  is  o'  fightin'.  When  Sammy  Strother  were 
stuck  for  summat  to  say  in  his  prayers,  he'd  sing  out, 
"  Th'  sword  o'  th'  Lord  and  o'  Gideon."  They  were  allns 
at  it  about  puttin'  on  th'  whole  armour  o'  righteousness, 
an'  fightin'  the  good  fight  o'  faith.  And  then,  atop  o'  't 
all,  they  held  a  prayer-meetin'  ower  a  young  chap  as 
wanted  to  'liht,  and  nearly  deafened  him,  till  he  picked 
up  his  hat  and  fair  ran  away.  And  they'd  tell  tales  in 
th'  Sunday-school  o'  bad  lads  as  had  been  thumped  and 
brayed  for  bird-nesting  o'  Sundays  and  playin'  truant  o' 
week-days,  and  how  they  took  to  wrestlin',  dog-fightin', 
rabbit-runnin',  and  drinkin',  till  at  last,  as  if  'twere  a 
hepitaph  on  a  gravestone,  they  damned  him  across  th' 
moors  wi',  "an'  then  he  went  and  'listed  for  a  soldier,"  an' 
they'd  all  fetch  a  deep  breath,  and  throw  up  their  eyes 
like  a  hen  drinkin'.' 

'Fwhy  is  ut  ? '  s;iid  Mulvaney,  bringing  down  his 
hand  on  his  thigh  with  a  crack.  . '  In  the  name  av  God, 
fwhy  is  ut?  I've  seen  ut,  tn.  They  cheat  an'  they 
swindle  an'  they  lie  an'  they  slander,  an'  fifty  things  fifty 
times  worse;  but  the  last  an'  the  worst  by  their  reckonin' 
is  to  serve  the  Widdy  honest.  It's  like  the  talk  av 
childer — seein'  things  all  round.' 

*  Plucky  lot  of  fightin'  good  fights  of  whatsername 
they'd  do  if  we  didn't  see  they  had  a  quiet  place  to  fight 
in.  And  such  fightin'  as  theirs  is  !  Cats  on  the  tiles. 
T'other  callin'  to  which  to  come  on.  I'd  give  a  month's 
pay  to  get  some  o'  them  broad-backed  beggars  in  London 


ON   GREENHOW  HILL  159 

sweatin'  through  a  day's  road-makin*  an'  a  night's  rain. 
They'd  carry  on  a  deal  afterwards — same  as  we're  supposed 
to  carry  on.  I've  bin  turned  out  of  a  measly  arf-license 
pub  down  Lambeth  way,  full  o'  greasy  kebmen,  'fore  now,' 
said  Ortheris  with  an  oath. 

*  Maybe  you  were  dhrunk,'  said  Mulvaney  soothingly. 

'  Worse  nor  that.  The  Forders  were  drunk.  /  was 
wearin'  the  Queen's  uniform.' 

'  I'd  no  particular  thought  to  be  a  soldier  i'  them 
days/  said  Learoyd,  still  keeping  his  eye  on  the  bare  hill 
opposite,  '  but  this  sort  o'  talk  put  it  i'  my  head.  They 
was  so  good,  th'  chapel  folk,  that  they  tumbled  ower 
t'other  side.  But  I  stuck  to  it  for  'Liza's  sake,  specially 
as  she  was  learning  me  to  sing  the  bass  part  in  a  horo- 
torio  as  Jesse  were  gettin'  up.  She  sung  like  a  throstle 
hersen,  and  we  had  practisin's  night  after  night  for  a 
matter  of  three  months.' 

'  I  know  what  a  horotorio  is,'  said  Ortheris  pertly. 
'  It's  a  sort  of  chaplain's  sing-song — words  all  out  of  the 
Bible,  and  hullabaloojah  choruses.' 

*  Most  Greenhow   Hill  folks   played  some    instrument 
or  t'other,  an'  they  all  sung  so  you  might  have  heard  them 
miles  away,  and  they  were  so  pleased  wi'  the  noise  they 
made  they  didn't  fair  to  want  anybody  to   listen.     The 
preacher  sung  high  seconds  when   he  wasn't  playin'  the 
flute,  an'  they  set  me,  as  hadn't  got  far  with  big   fiddle, 
again  Willie  Sattertliwaite,  to  jog  his  elbow  when  he  had 
to  get  a'  gate  playin'.     Old  Jesse   was  happy  if  ever  a 
man  was,  for  he  were  th'  conductor  an'  th'  first  fiddle  an' 
th'  leadin'  singer,  beatin'  time  wi'  his  fiddle-stick,  till  at 
times  he'd  rap  with  it  on  the  table,  and  cry  out,  "  Now, 
you  mun  all  stop;  it's  my  turn."     And  he'd   face  round 
to  his  front,  fair  sweating  wi'  pride,  to  sing  th'  tenor  solos. 
But  he  were  grandest  i'  th'  choruses,  waggiif    his    head, 


160  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

flinging  his  arms  round  like  a  windmill,  and  singin'  hisself 
black  in  the  face.  A  rare  singer  were  Jesse. 

'  Yo'  see,  I  was  not  o'  much  account  wi'  'em  all  ex- 
ceptin'  to  'Liza  Koantree,  and  I  had  a  deal  o'  time  settin' 
quiet  at  meetings  and  horotorio  practises  to  hearken  their 
talk,  and  if  it  were  strange  to  me  at  beginnin',  it  got 
stranger  still  at  after,  when  I  was  shut  on  it,  and  could 
study  what  it  m caned. 

*  Just  after  th'  horotorios  come  off,  'Liza,  as  had  allus 
been  weakly  like,  was  took  very  bad.  I  walked  Dr. 
Warbottom's  horse  up  and  down  a  deal  of  times  while  he 
were  inside,  where  they  wouldn't  let  me  go,  though  I  fair 
ached  to  see  her. 

'"She'll  be  better  i'  noo,  lad — better  i'  noo,"  he  used 
to  say.  "Tim  mun  ha'  patience."  Then  they  said  if  I 
was  quiet  I  might  go  in,  and  th'  Reverend  Amos  Barra- 
clough  used  to  read  to  her  lyin'  propped  up  among  th' 
pillows.  Then  she  began  to  mend  a  bit,  and  they  let 
me  carry  her  on  to  th'  settle,  and  when  it  got  warm  again 
she  went  about  same  as  afore.  Th'  preacher  and  me  and 
Blast  was  a  deal  together  i'  them  days,  and  i'  one  way 
we  was  rare  good  comrades.  But  I  could  ha'  stretched 
him  time  and  again  with  a  good  will.  I  mind  one  day 
he  said  he  would  like  to  go  down  into  th'  bowels  o'  th' 
earth,  and  see  how  th'  Lord  had  builded  th'  framework  o' 
th'  everlastin'  hills.  He  were  one  of  them  chaps  as  had 
a  gift  o'  savin'  things.  They  rolled  off  the  tip  of  h:s 
clever  tongue,  same  as  Mulvaney  here,  as  would  ha'  made 
a  rare  good  preacher  if  he  had  nobbut  given  his  mind 
to  it.  I  lent  him  a  suit  o'  miner's  kit  as  almost  buried 
th'  little  man,  and  his  white  face  down  i'  th'  coat-collar 
and  hat-flap  looked  like  the  face  of  a  boggart,  and  he 
cowered  down  i'  th'  bottom  o'  the  waggon.  I  was  drivin' 
a  tram  as  led  up  a  bit  of  an  incline  up  to  th'  cave  where 


ON  GKEENHOW  HILL  161 

the  engine  was  pumpin',  and  where  th'  ore  was  brought 
up  and  put  into  th'  waggons  as  went  down  o'  themselves, 
me  puttin'  th'  brake  on  and  th'  horses  a-trottin'  after. 
Long  as  it  was  daylight  we  were  good  friends,  but  when 
we  g)t  fair  into  th'  dark,  and  could  nobbut  see  th'  day 
shinin'  at  the  hole  like  a  lamp  at  a  street-end,  I  feeled 
downright  wicked.  Ma  religion  dropped  all  away  from 
me  when  I  looked  back  at  him  as  were  always  comin' 
between  me  and  'Liza.  The  talk  was  'at  they  were  to  be 
wed  when  she  got  better,  an'  I  couldn't  get  her  to  say 
yes  or  nay  to  it.  He  began  to  sing  a  hymn  in  his  thin 
voice,  and  I  came  out  wi'  a  chorus  that  Avas  all  cussiu' 
an'  swearin'  at  my  horses,  an'  I  began  to  know  how  I 
hated  him.  He  were  such  a  little  chap,  too.  I  could 
drop  him  wi'  one  hand  down  Garstang's  Copper-hole — 
a  place  where  th'  beck  slithered  ower  th'  edge  on  a  rock, 
and  fell  wi'  a  bit  of  a  whisper  into  a  pit  as  no  rope  i' 
Greenhow  could  plump.' 

Again  Learoyd  rooted  up  the  innocent  violets.  '  Ay, 
he  should  see  th'  bowels  o'  th'  earth  an'  never  naught 
else.  I  could  take  him  a  mile  or  two  along  th'  drift,  and 
leave  him  wi'  his  candle  doused  to* cry  hallelujah,  wi' 
none  to  hear  him  and  say  amen.  I  was  to  lead  him 
down  th'  ladder-way  to  th'  drift  where  Jesse  Eoantree 
was  workin',  and  why  shouldn't  he  slip  on  th'  ladder,  wi' 
my  feet  on  his  fingers  till  they  loosed  grip,  and  I  put  him 
down  wi'  my  heel?  If  I  went  fust  down  th'  ladder  I 
could  click  hold  on  him  and  chuck  him  over  my  head, 
so  as  he  should  go  squshin'  down  the  shaft,  breakin'  his 
bones  at  ev'ry  timberin'  as  Bill  Appleton  did  when  he  was 
fresh,  and  hadn't  a  bone  left  when  he  wrought  to  th' 
bottom.  Niver  a  blasted  leg  to  walk  from  Pately.  Niver 
an  arm  to  put  round  'Liza  Roantree's  waist.  Niver  no 
more— niver  no  more.' 


162  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

The  thick  lips  curled  back  over  the  yellow  teeth,  and 
that  flushed  face  was  not  pretty  to  look  upon.  Mulvaney 
nodded  sympathy,  and  Ortheris,  moved  by  his  comrade's 
passion,  brought  up  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  and  searched 
the  hillside  for  his  quarry,  muttering  ribaldry  about  a 
sparrow,  a  spout,  and  a  thunder-storm.  The  voice  of 
the  watercourse  supplied  the  necessary  small  talk  till 
Learoyd  picked  up  his  story. 

'  But  it's  none  so  easy  to  kill  a  man  like  yon. 
When  I'd  given  up  my  horses  to  th'  lad  as  took  my  place 
and  I  was  showin'  th'  preacher  th'  workin's,  shoutin'  into 
his  ear  across  th'  clung  o'  th'  pumpin'  engines,  I  saw  he 
were  afraid  o'  naught;  and  when  the  lamplight  showed 
his  black  eyes,  I  could  feel  as  he  was  masterin'  me  again. 
I  were  no  better  nor  Blast  chained  up  short  and  growlin' 
i'  the  depths  of  him  while  a  strange  dog  went  safe  past. 

'"Th'art  a  coward  and  a  fool,"  I  said  to  mysen;  an' 
I  wrestled  i'  my  mind  again'  him  till,  when  we  come  to 
Garstang's  Copper-hole,  I  laid  hold  o'  the  preacher  and 
lifted  him  up  over  my  head  and  held  him  into  the  darkest 
on  it.  "  Xow,  lad,"  I  says,  "  it's  to  be  one  or  t'other  on 
us — thee  or  me — for  'Liza  Roantree.  Why,  isn't  thee 
afraid  for  thysen  ? "  I  says,  for  he  were  still  i'  my  arms  as 
a  sack.  "Nay;  I'm  but  afraid  for  thee,  my  poor  lad,  as 
knows  naught,"  says  he.  I  set  him  down  on  th'  edge, 
an'  th'  beck  run  stiller,  an'  there  was  no  more  buzzin' 
in  my  head  like  when  th'  bee  come  through  th'  window 
o'  Jesse's  house.  "  What  dost  tha  mean  ?"  says  I. 

'  "  I've  often  thought  as  thou  ought  to  know,"  says  he, 
"  but  'twas  hard  to  tell  thee.  'Liza  Roantree's  for  neither 
on  us,  nor  for  nobody  o'  this  earth.  Dr.  Warbottom  says 
— and  he  knows  her,  and  her  mother  before  her — that 
ehe  is  in  a  decline,  and  she  cannot  live  six  months  longer. 
He's  known  it  for  many  a  day.  Steady,  John!  Steady!" 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  16o 

says  he.  And  that  weak  little  man  pulled  me  further 
back  and  set  me  again'  him,  and  talked  it  all  over  quiet 
and  still,  me  turnin'  a  bunch  o'  caudles  in  my  hand,  and 
counting  them  ower  and  ower  again  as  I  listened.  A 
deal  on  it  were  th'  regular  preachin'  talk,  but  there  were 
a  vast  lot  as  made  me  begin  to  think  as  he  were  more  of 
a  man  than  I'd  ever  given  him  credit  for,  till  I  were  cut 
as  deep  for  him  as  I  were  for  mysen. 

'  Six  candles  we  had,  and  we  crawled  and  climbed  all 
that  day  while  they  lasted,  and  I  said  to  mysen,  "  'Liza 
Roantree  hasn't  six  months  to  live."  And  when  we  came 
into  th'  daylight  again  we  were  like  dead  men  to  look  at, 
an'  Blast  come  behind  us  without  so  much  as  waggin'  his 
tail.  When  I  saw  'Liza  again  she  looked  at  me  a  minute 
and  says,  "Who's  tolled  tha?  For  I  see  tha  knows." 
And  she  tried  to  smile  as  she  kissed  me,  and  I  fair  broke 
down. 

*  Yo'  see,  I  was  a  young  chap  i'  them  days,  and  had 
seen  naught  o'  life,  let  alone  death,  as  is  allus  a-waitin'. 
She  telled  me  as  Dr.  Warbottotn  said  as  Greeuhow  air 
was  too  keen,  and  they  were  goin'  to  Bradford,  to  Jesse's 
brother  David,  as  worked  i'  a  mill,  and  I  mini  hold  up 
like  a  man  and  a  Christian,  and  she'd  pray  for  me.  Well, 
and  they  went  away,  and  the  preacher  that  same  back 
end  o'  th'  year  were  appointed  to  another  circuit,  as  they 
call  it,  and  I  were  left  alone  on  Greenhow  Hill. 

4 1  tried,  and  I  tried  hard,  to  stick  to  th'  chapel,  but 
'tweren't  th'  same  thing  at  after.  I  hadn't  'Liza's  voice 
to  follow  i'  th'  singin',  nor  her  eyes  a-shinin'  acrost  their 
heads.  And  i'  th'  class  meetings  they  said  as  I  mun  have 
some  experiences  to  tell,  and  I  hadn't  a  word  to  say  for 
mysen. 

'Blast  and  me  moped  a  good  deal,  and  happen  we 
didn't  behave  ourselves  over  well,  fur  they  dropped  us 


164  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

and  wondered  however  they'd  come  to  take  us  up.  I 
can't  tell  how  we  got  through  tli'  time,  while  i'  tli'  winter 
I  gave  up  my  job  and  went  to  Bradford.  Old  Jesse  were 
at  th'  door  o'  th'  house,  in  a  long  street  o'  little  houses. 
He'd  been  sendin'  th'  children  'way  as  were  clatterin' 
their  clogs  in  th'  causeway,  for  she  were  asleep. 

'"Is  it  thee?"  lie  says;  "but  you're  not  to  see  her. 
I'll  none  have  her  wakened  for  a  nowt  like  thee.  She's 
goin'  fast,  and  she  mun  go  in  peace.  Thou'lt  never  be 
good  for  naught  i'  th'  world,  and  as  long  as  thou  lives 
thou'll  never  play  the  big  fiddle.  Get  away,  lad,  get 
away  ! "  So  he  shut  the  door  softly  i'  my  face. 

'  Nobody  never  made  Jesse  my  master,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  he  was  about  right,  and  I  went  away  into  the  town 
and  knocked  up  against  a  recruiting  sergeant.  The  old 
tales  o'  th'  chapel  folk  came  buzzin'  into  my  head.  I 
was  to  get  away,  and  this  were  th'  regular  road  for  the 
likes  o'  me.  I  'listed  there  and  then,  took  th'  Widow's 
shillin',  and  had  a  bunch  o'  ribbons  pinned  i'  my  hat. 

'But  next  day  I  found  my  way  to  David  Koantree's 
door,  and  Jesse  came  to  open  it.  Says  he,  "  Thou's  come 
back  again  wi'  th'  devil's  colours  flyin' — thy  true  colours, 
as  I  always  telled  thee." 

'  But  I  begged  and  prayed  of  him  to  let  me  see  her 
nobbut  to  say  good-bye,  till  a  woman  calls  down  th'  stair- 
way, "She  says  John  Learoyd's  to  come  up."  Th'  old 
man  shifts  aside  in  a  flash,  and  lays  his  hand  on  my  arm, 
quite  gentle  like.  "But  thou'lt  be  quiet,  John,"  says  lie, 
"  for  she's  rare  and  weak.  Thou  was  allus  a  good  lad." 

'  Her  eyes  "were  all  alive  wi'  light,  and  her  hair  was 
thick  on  the  pillow  round  her,  but  her  cheeks  were  thin 
— thin  to  frighten  a  man  that's  strong.  "Nay,  father, 
yo  mayn't  say  th'  devil's  colours.  Them  ribbons  is 
pretty."  Au'  she  held  out  her  hands  for  th'  hat,  an'  she 


ON  GREENHOW  HILL  165 

put  all  straight  as  a  woman  will  wi'  ribbons.  "Nay,  but 
what  they're  pretty,"  she  says.  "Eh,  but  I'd  ha'  liked  to 
see  thee  i'  thy  red  coat,  John,  for  thou  was  allus  my  own 
lad — my  very  own  lad,  and  none  else." 

'She  lifted  up  her  arms,  and  they  come  round  my 
neck  i'  a  gentle  grip,  and  they  slacked  away,  and  she 
seemed  fainting.  "  Now  yo'  mun  get  away,  lad,"  says 
Jesse,  and  I  picked  up  my  hat  and  I  came  downstairs. 

*Th/  recruiting  sergeant  were  waitin'  for  me  at  th' 
corner  public-house.  "Yo've  seen  your  sweetheart?" 
says  he.  "  Yes,  I've  seen  her,"  says  I.  "  Well,  we'll 
have  a  quart  now,  and  you'll  do  your  best  to  forget  her," 
says  he,  bein'  one  o'  them  smart,  bustlin'  chaps.  "Ay, 
sergeant,"  says  I.  "  Forget  her."  And  I've  been  for- 
gettin'  her  ever  since.' 

He  threw  away  the  wilted  clump  of  white  violets  as 
he  spoke.  Ortheris  suddenly  rose  to  his  knees,  his  rifle 
at  his  shoulder,  and  peered  across  the  valley  in  the  clear 
afternoon  light.  His  chin  cuddled  the  stock,  and  there 
was  a  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  right  cheek  as  he 
sighted  ;  Private  Stanley  Ortheris  was  engaged  on  his 
business.  A  speck  of  white  crawled  up  the  watercourse. 

'  See  that  beggar  ?  .  .  .  Got  'im.' 

Seven  hundred  yards  away,  and  a  full  two  hundred 
down  the  hillside,  the  deserter  of  the  Aurangabadis 
pitched  forward,  rolled  down  a  red  rock,  and  lay  very  still, 
with  his  face  in  a  clump  of  blue  gentians,  while  a  big 
raven  flapped  out  of  the  pine  wood  to  make  investigation. 

'That's  a  clean  shot,  little  man,'  said  Mulvane}'. 

Learoyd  thoughtfully  watched  the  smoke  clear  away. 
'  Happen  there  was  a  lass  tewed  up  wi'  him,  too,'  said  he. 

Ortheris  did  not  reply.  He  was  staring  across  the 
valley,  with  the  smile  of  the  artist  who  looks  on  the 
completed  work. 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS 


The  Earth  gave  up  her  dead  that  tide, 

Into  pur  camp  he  came, 
And  said  his  say,  and  went  his  way, 

And  left  our  hearts  aflame. 


Keep  tally— on  the  gun-butt  score 
The  vengeance  we  must  take, 

When  God  shall  bring  full  reckoning, 
For  our  dead  comrade's  sake. 

liallad. 


LET  it  be  clearly  understood  that  the  Russian  is  a  delight- 
ful person  till  he  tucks  in  his  shirt.  As  an  Oriental  he 
is  charming.  It  is  only  when  lie  insists  upon  being 
treated  as  the  most  easterly  of  western  peoples  instead  of 
the  most  westerly  of  easterns  that  he  becomes  a  racial 
anomaly  extremely  difficult  to  handle.  The  host  never 
knows  which  side  of  his  nature  is  going  to  turn  up  next. 

Dirkovitch  was  a  Russian — a  Russian  of  the  Russians 
— who  appeared  to  get  his  bread  by  serving  the  Czar  as 
an  officer  in  a  Cossack  regiment,  and  corresponding  for  a 
Russian  newspaper  with  a  name  that  was  never  twice 
alike.  He  was  a  handsome  young  Oriental,  fond  of  wan- 
dering through  unexplored  portions  of  the  earth,  and  he 
arrived  in  India  from  nowhere  in  particular.  At  least  no 
living  man  could  ascertain  whether  it  was  by  way  of 
Balkh,  Badakshan,  Chitral,  Beluchistan,  or  Nepaul,  or 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  167 

anywhere  else.  The  Indian  Government,  being  in  an 
unusually  affable  mood,  gave  orders  that  he  was  to  be 
civilly  treated  and  shown  everything  that  was  to  be  seen. 
So  he  drifted,  talking  bad  English  and  worse  French,  from 
one  city  to  another,  till  he  foregathered  with  Her  Majesty's 
AVhite  Hussars  in  the  city  of  Peshawur,  which  stands  at 
the  mouth  of  that  narrow  swordcut  in  the  hills  that  men 
call  the  Khyber  Pass.  He  was  undoubtedly  an  officer, 
and  he  was  decorated  after  the  manner  of  the  Russians 
with  little  enamelled  crosses,  and  he  could  talk,  and 
(though  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  merits)  he  had 
been  given  up  as  a  hopeless  task,  or  cask,  by  the  Black 
Tyrone,  who  individually  and  collectively,  with  hot  whisky 
and  honey,  mulled  brandy,  and  mixed  spirits  of  every 
kind,  had  striven  in  all  hospitality  to  make  him  drunk. 
And  when  the  Black  Tyrone,  who  are  exclusively  Irish, 
fail  to  disturb  the  peace  of  head  of  a  foreigner — that 
foreigner  is  certain  to  be  a  superior  man. 

The  White  Hussars  were  as  conscientious  in  choosing 
their  wine  as  in  charging  the  enemy.  All  that  they 
possessed,  including  some  wondrous  brandy,  was  placed  at 
the  absolute  disposition  of  Dirkovitch,  and  he  enjoyed 
himself  hugely  —  even  more  than  among  the  Black 
Tyrones. 

But  he  remained  distressingly  European  through  it  all. 
The  White  Hussars  were  '  My  dear  true  friends,' '  Fellow- 
soldiers  glorious,' and  'Brothers  inseparable.'  He  would 
unburden  himself  by  the  hour  on  the  glorious  future  that 
awaited  the  combined  arms  of  England  and  Russia  when 
their  hearts  and  their  territories  should  run  side  by  side 
and  the  great  mission  of  civilising  Asia  should  begin. 
That  was  unsatisfactory,  because  Asia  is  not  going  to  be 
civilised  after  the  methods  of  the  West.  There  is  too 
much  Asia  and  she  is  too  old.  You  cannot  reform  a 


168  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

lady  of  many  lovers,  and  Asia  has  been  insatiable  in  her 
flirtations  aforetime.  She  will  never  attend  Sunday 
school  or  learn  to  vote  save  with  swords  for  tickets. 

Dirkovitch  knew  this  as  well  as  any  one  else,  but  it 
suited  him  to  talk  special-correspondently  and  to  make 
himself  as  genial  as  he  could.  Now  and  then  he  volun- 
teered a  little,  a  very  little,  information  about  his  own 
sotnia  of  Cossacks,  left  apparently  to  look  after  themselves 
somewhere  at  the  back  of  beyond.  He  had  done  rough 
work  in  Central  Asia,  and  had  seen  rather  more  help- 
yourself  fighting  than  most  men  of  his  years.  But  he 
was  careful  never  to  betray  his  superiority,  and  more  than 
careful  to  praise  on  all  occasions  the  appearance,  drill, 
uniform,  and  organisation  of  Her  Majesty's  White  Hussars. 
And  indeed  they  were  a  regiment  to  be  admired.  When 
Lady  Durgan,  widow  of  the  late  Sir  John  Durgan,  arrived 
in  their  station,  and  after  a  short  time  had  been  proposed 
to  by  every  single  man  at  mess,  she  put  the  public  senti- 
ment very  neatly  when  she  explained  that  they  were  all 
so  nice  that  unless  she  could  marry  them  all,  including 
the  colonel  and  some  majors  already  married,  she  was  not 
going  to  content  herself  with  one  hussar.  Wherefore 
she  wedded  a  little  man  in  a  rifle  regiment,  being  by 
nature  contradictious  ;  and  the  Wiiite  Hussars  were  going 
to  wear  crape  on  their  arms,  but  compromised  by  attend- 
ing the  wedding  in  full  force,  and  lining  the  aisle  with 
unutterable  reproach.  She  had  jilted  them  all — from 
Basset-Holmer  the  senior  captain  to  little  Mildred  the 
junior  subaltern,  who  could  have  given  her  four  thousand 
a  year  and  a  title. 

The  only  persons  who  did  not  share  the  general  regard 
for  the  White  Hussars  were  a  few  thousand  gentlemen  of 
Jewish  extraction  who  lived  across  the  border,  and 
answered  to  the  name  of  Pathan.  They  had  once  met 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  109 

the  regiment  officially  and  for  something  less  than  twenty 
minutes,  but  the  interview,  which  was  complicated  with 
many  casualties,  had  filled  them  with  prejudice.  They 
even  called  the  White  Hussars  children  of  the  devil  and 
sons  of  persons  whom  it  would  be  perfectly  impossible  to 
meet  in  decent  society.  Yet  they  were  not  above  making 
their  aversion  fill  their  money-belts.  The  regiment 
possessed  carbines — beautiful  Martini-Henri  carbines  that 
would  lob  a  bullet  into  an  enemy's  camp  at  one  thousand 
yards,  and  were  even  handier  than  the  long  rifle.  There- 
fore they  were  coveted  all  along  the  border,  and  since 
demand  inevitably  breeds  supply,  they  were  supplied  at 
the  risk  of  life  and  limb  for  exactly  their  weight  in  coined 
silver — seven  and  one  half  pounds  weight  of  rupees,  or 
sixteen  pounds  sterling  reckoning  the  rupee  at  par.  They 
were  stolen  at  night  by  snaky-haired  thieves  who  crawled 
on  their  stomachs  under  the  nose  of  the  sentries  ;  they 
disappeared  mysteriously  from  locked  arm-racks,  and  in 
the  hot  weather,  when  all  the  barrack  doors  and  windows 
were  open,  they  vanished  like  puffs  of  their  own  smoke. 
The  border  people  desired  them  for  family  vendettas  and 
contingencies.  But  in  the  long  cold  nights  of  the  northern 
Indian  winter  they  were  stolen  most  extensively.  The 
traffic  of  murder  was  liveliest  among  the  hills  at  that 
season,  and  prices  ruled  high.  The  regimental  guards 
were  first  doubled  and  then  trebled.  A  trooper  does  not 
much  care  if  he  loses  a  weapon — Government  must  make 
it  good — but  he  deeply  resents  the  loss  of  his  sleep.  The 
regiment  grew  very  angry,  and  one  rifle-thief  bears  the 
visible  marks  of  their  anger  upon  him  to  this  hour.  That 
incident  stopped  the  burglaries  for  a  time,  and  the  guards 
were  reduced  accordingly,  and  the  regiment  devoted  itself 
to  polo  with  unexpected  results ;  for  it  beat  by  two  goals 
to  one  th:it  very  terrible  polo  corps  the  Lushkar  Light 


170  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Horse,  though  the  latter  had  four  ponies  apiece  for  a  short 
hour's  fight,  as  well  as  a  native  officer  who  played  like  a 
lambent  flame  across  the  ground. 

They  gave  a  dinner  to  celebrate  the  event.  The 
Lushkar  team  came,  and  Dirkovitch  came,  in  the 
fullest  full  uniform  of  a  Cossack  officer,  which  is  as 
full  as  a  dressing-gown,  and  was  introduced  to  the 
Lushkars,  and  opened  his  eyes  as  he  regarded.  They 
were  lighter  men  than  the  Hussars,  and  they  carried 
themselves  with  the  swing  that  is  the  peculiar  right 
of  the  Punjab  Frontier  Force  and  all  Irregular  Horse. 
Like  everything  else  in  the  Service  it  has  to  be  learnt, 
but,  unlike  many  things,  it  is  never  forgotten,  and 
remains  on  the  body  -till  death. 

The  great  beam -roofed  mess-room  of  the  White 
Hussars  was  a  sight  to  be  remembered.  All  the 
mess  plate  was  out  on  the  long  table— the  same  table 
that  had  served  up  the  bodies  of  five  officers  after  a 
forgotten  fight  long  and  long  ago — the  dingy,  battered 
standards  faced  the  door  of  entrance,  clumps  of  winter- 
roses  lay  between  the  silver  candlesticks,  and  the 
portraits  of  eminent  officers  deceased  looked  down  on 
their  successors  from  between  the  heads  of  sambhur, 
nilghai,  markhor,  and,  pride  of  all  the  mess,  two 
grinning  snow-leopards  that  had  cost  Basset-IIolmer 
four  months'  leave  that  he  might  have  spent  in 
England,  instead  of  on  the  road  to  Thibet  and  the 
daily  risk  of  his  life  by  ledge,  snow-slide,  and  grassy 
slope. 

The  servants  in  spotless  white  muslin  and  the 
crest  of  their  regiments  on  the  brow  of  their  turbans 
waited  behind  their  masters,  who  were  clad  in  the 
scarlet  and  gold  of  the  White  Hussars,  and  the  cream 
and  silver  of  the  Lushkar  Liijht  Horse.  Dirkovitclfs 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  171 

dull  green  uniform  was  the  only  dark  spot  at  the 
board,  but  his  big  onyx  eyes  made  up  for  it.  He 
was  fraternising  effusively  with  the  captain  of  the 
Lushkar  team,  who  was  wondering  how  many  of 
Dirkovitch's  Cossacks  his  own  dark  wiry  down-country- 
men could  account  for  in  a  fair  charge.  But  one  does 
not  speak  of  these  things  openly. 

The  talk  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  the  regimental 
band  played  between  the  courses,  as  is  the  immemorial 
custom,  till  all  tongues  ceased  for  a  moment  with  the 
removal  of  the  dinner-slips  and  the  first  toast  of  obli- 
gation, when  an  officer  rising  said,  'Mr.  Vice,  the 
Queen/  and  little  Mildred  from  the  bottom  of  the 
table  answered,  'The  Queen,  God  bless  her,'  and  the 
big  spurs  clanked  as  the  big  men  heaved  themselves 
up  and  drank  the  Queen  upon  whose  pay  they  were 
falsely  supposed  to  settle  their  mess  -  bills.  That 
Sacrament  of  the  Mess  never  grows  old,  and  never 
ceases  to  bring  a  lump  into  the  throat  of  the  listener 
wherever  he  be  by  sea  or  by  land.  Dirkovitch  rose 
with  his  'brothers  glorious,'  but  he  could  not  under- 
stand. No  one  but  an  officer  can  tell  what  the  toast 
means;  and  the  bulk  have  more  sentiment  than  com- 
prehension. Immediately  after  the  little  silence  that 
follows  on  the  ceremony  there  entered  the  native 
officer  who  had  played  for  the  Lushkar  team.  He 
could  not,  of  course,  eat  with  the  mess,  but  he  came 
in  at  dessert,  all  six  feet  of  him,  with  the  blue  and 
silver  turban  atop,  and  the  big  black  boots  below. 
The  mess  rose  joyously  as  he  thrust  forward  the  hilt 
of  his  sabre  in  token  of  fealty  for  the  colonel  of  the 
White  Hussars  to  touch,  and  dropped  into  a  vacant 
chair  amid  shouts  of  :  '  RHIKJ  ho,  Hira  Singh  !  '  (which 
being  translated  means  '  (Jo  in  and  win ').  '  Did  I 


172  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

whuck  you  over  the  knee,  old  man?'  '  Ressaidat 
Sahib,  what  the  devil  made  you  play  that  kicking 
pig  of  a  pony  in  the  last  ten  minutes?'  ' Shabaslt, 
Ressaidar  Sahib!'  Then  the  voice  of  the  colonel, 
'  The  health  of  Ressaidar  Him  Singh  ! ' 

After  the  shouting  had  died  away  Hira  Singh  rose 
to  reply,  for  he  was  the  cadet  of  a  royal  house,  the  son 
of  a  king's  son,  and  knew  what  was  due  on  these 
occasions.  Thus  he  spoke  in  the  vernacular: — '  Colonel 
Sahib  and  officers  of  this  regiment.  Much  honour 
have  you  done  me.  This  will  I  remember.  We 
came  down  from  afar  to  play  you.  But  we  were 
beaten/  ('  No  fault  of  yours,  Ressuidar  Sahib.  Played 
on  our  own  ground  y'  know.  Your  ponies  were  cramped 
from  the  railway.  Don't  apologise  ! ')  '  Therefore  per- 
haps we  will  come  again  if  it  be  so  ordained.'  ('Hear  ! 
Hear!  Hear,  indeed!  Bravo!  Hsh!')  'Then  we  will 
play  you  afresh '  ('  Happy  to  meet  you.')  '  till  there 
are  left  no  feet  upon  our  ponies.  Thus  far  for  sport.' 
He  dropped  one  hand  on  his  sword-hilt  and  his  eye 
wandered  to  Dirkovitch  lolling  back  in  his  chair.  'But 
if  by  the  will  of  God  there  arises  any  other  game  which 
is  not  the  polo  game,  then  be  assured,  Colonel  Sahib  and 
officers,  that  we  will  play  it  out  side  by  side,  though  they,' 
again  his  eye  sought  Dirkovitch,  '  though  they  I  say  have 
fifty  ponies  to  our  one  horse.'  And  with  a  deep-mouthed 
Rung  ho  !  that  sounded  like  a  musket-butt  on  flagstones 
he  sat  down  amid  leaping  glasses. 

Dirkovitch,  who  had  devoted  himself  steadily  to  the 
brandy— the  terrible  brandy  aforementioned— did  not 
understand,  nor  did  the  expurgated  translations  offered 
to  him  at  all  convey  the  point.  Decidedly  Hira  Singh's 
was  the  speech  of  the  evening,  and  the  clamour  might 
have  continued  to  the  dawn  had  it  not  been  broken  by 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  1T3 

the  noise  of  a  shot  without  that  sent  every  man  feeling 
at  his  defenceless  left  side.  Then  there  was  a  scuffle  and 
a  yell  of  pain. 

'Carbine-stealing  again!'  said  the  adjutant,  calmly 
sinking  back  in  his  chair.  'This  comes  of  reducing  the 
guards.  I  hope  the  sentries  have  killed  him.' 

The  feet  of  armed  men  pounded  on  the  verandah  flags, 
and  it  was  as  though  something  was  being  dragged. 

'  Why  don't  they  put  him  in  the  cells  till  the  morn- 
ing ? '  said  the  colonel  testily.  '  See  if  they've  damaged 
him,  sergeant.' 

The  mess  sergeant  fled  out  into  the  darkness  and 
returned  with  two  troopers  and  a  corporal,  all  very  much 
perplexed. 

'  Caught  a  man  stealin'  carbines,  sir,'  said  the  corporal. 
'Leastways  'e  was  crawlin'  towards  the  barricks,  sir,  past 
the  main  road  sentries,  an'  the  sentry  'e  sez,  sir ' 

The  limp  heap  of  rags  upheld  by  the  three  men 
groaned.  Never  was  seen  so  destitute  and  demoralised 
an  Afghan.  He  was  turbanless,  shoeless,  caked  with 
dirt,  and  all  but  dead  with  rough  handling.  Hira  Singh 
started  slightly  at  the  sound  of  the  man's  pain.  Dirko- 
vitch  took  another  glass  of  brandy. 

'  Wliat  does  the  sentry  say  ?  '  said  the  colonel. 

'Sez  'e  speaks  English,  sir,'  said  the  corporal. 

'So  you  brought  him  into  mess  instead  of  handing 
him  over  to  the  sergeant  !  If  he  spoke  all  the  Tongues  of 
the  Pentecost  you've  no  business — 

Again  the  bundle  groaned  and  muttered.  Little 
Mildred  had  risen  from  his  place  to  inspect.  He 
jumped  back  as  though  he  had  been  shot. 

'Perhaps  it  would  be  better,  sir,  to  send  the  men 
away/  said  he  to  the  colonel,  for  he  was  a  much 
privileged  subaltern.  He  put  his  anus  round  the  r;tg- 


174  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

bound  horror  as  he  spoke,  and  dropped  him  into  a 
chair.  It  may  not  have  been  explained  that  the 
littleness  of  Mildred  lay  in  his  being  six  feet  four 
and  big  in  proportion.  The  corporal  seeing  that  an 
officer  was  disposed  to  look  after  the  capture,  and 
that  the  colonel's  eye  was  beginning  to  blaze,  promptly 
removed  himself  and  his  men.  The  mess  was  left 
alone  with  the  carbine-thief,  who  laid  his  head  on 
the  table  and  wept  bitterly,  hopelessly,  and  incon- 
solably,  as  little  children  weep. 

Hira  Singh  leapt  to  his  feet.  'Colonel  Sahib,'  said 
he,  'that  man  is  no  Afghan,  for  they  weep  Ai!  Ai ! 
Nor  is  he  of  Hindustan,  for  they  weep  Oh !  Ho ! 
He  weeps  after  the  fashion  of  the  white  men,  who 
say  Ow!  Ow." 

'  Xow  where  the  dickens  did  you  get  that  know- 
ledge, Hira  Singh  ? '  said  the  captain  of  the  Lushkar 
team. 

*  Hear  him  ! '  said  Hira  Singh  simply,  pointing  at 
the  crumpled  figure  that  wept  as  though  it  would 
never  cease. 

'  He  said,  "  My  God  !  "  '  said  little  Mildred.  <  I 
heard  him  say  it.' 

The  colonel  and  the  mess-room  looked  at  the  man 
in  silence.  It  is  a  horrible  thing  to  hear  a  man 
cry.  A  woman  can  sob  from  the  top  of  her  palate, 
or  her  lips,  or  anywhere  else,  but  a  man  must  cry  from 
his  diaphragm,  and  it  rends  him  to  pieces. 

'  Poor  devil  ! '  said  the  colonel,  coughing  tremendously. 
'  We  ought  to  send  him  to  hospital.  He's  been  man- 
handled.' 

Now  the  adjutant  loved  his  carbines.  They  were 
to  him  as  his  grandchildren,  the  men  standing  in  the 
first  place.  He  grunted  rebelliously :  '  I  can  under- 


THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  175 

stand  an  Afghan  stealing,  because  he's  built  that  way. 
But  I  can't  understand  his  crying.  That  makes  it 
worse.' 

The  brandy  must  have  affected  Dirkovitch,  for  he 
lay  back  in  his  chair  and  stared  at  the  ceiling.  There 
was  nothing  special  in  the  ceiling  beyond  a  shadow 
as  of  a  huge  black  coffin.  Owing  to  some  peculiarity 
iu  the  construction  of  the  mess-room  this  shadow  was 
always  thrown  when  the  candles  were  lighted.  It 
never  disturbed  the  digestion  of  the  White  Hussars. 
They  were  in  fact  rather  proud  of  it. 

'Is  he  going  to  cry  all  night?'  said  the  colonel, 
'or  are  we  supposed  to  sit  up  with  little  Mildred's 
guest  until  he  feels  better?' 

The  man  in  the  chair  threw  up  his  head  and  stared 
at  the  mess.  'Oh,  my  God!'  he  said,  and  every  soul 
in  the  mess  rose  to  his  feet.  Then  the  Lushkar  captain 
did  a  deed  for  which  he  ought  to  have  been  given  the 
Victoria  Cross — distinguished  gallantry  in  a  fight  against 
overwhelming  curiosity.  He  picked  up  his  team  with  his 
eyes  as  the  hostess  picks  up  the  ladies  at  the  opportune 
moment,  and  pausing  only  by  the  colonel's  chair  to  say, 
'  This  isn't  our  affair,  you  know,  sir,'  led  them  into  the 
verandah  and  the  gardens.  Hira  Singh  was  the  last  to 
go,  and  he  looked  at  Dirkovitch.  But  Dirkovitch  had 
departed  into  a  brandy-paradise  of  his  own.  His  lips 
moved  without  sound  and  he  was  studying  the  coffin  on 
the  ceiling. 

'  White — white  all  over,'  said  Basset-Holmer,  the 
adjutant.  '  What  a  pernicious  renegade  he  must  be ! 
I  wonder  where  he  came  from  ? ' 

The  colonel  shook  the  man  gently  by  the  arm,  and 
'  Who  are  you?'  said  he. 

There   was    no   answer.      The   man   stared   round  the 


176  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

mess-room  and  smiled  in  the  colonel's  face.  Little 
Mildred,  who  was  always  more  of  a  woman  than  a  man 
till  '  Boot  mid  saddle*  was  sounded,  repeated  the  question 
in  a  voice  that  would  have  drawn  confidences  from  a 
geyser.  The  man  only  smiled.  Dirkovitch  at  the  far 
end  of  the  table  slid  gently  from  his  cbair  to  the  floor. 
No  son  of  Adam  in  this  present  imperfect  world  can  mix 
the  Hussars'  champagne  with  the  Hussars'  brandy  by  five 
and  eight  glasses  of  each  without  remembering  the  pit 
whence  he  was  digged  and  descending  thither.  The  band 
began  to  play  the  tune  with  which  the  White  Hussars 
from  the  date  of  their  formation  have  concluded  all  their 
functions.  They  would  sooner  be  disbanded  than  abandon 
that  tune;  it  is  a  part  of  their  system.  The  man 
straightened  himself  in  his  chair  and  drummed  on  the 
table  with  his  fingers. 

'I  don't  see  why  we  should  entertain  lunatics/  said 
the  colonel.  '  Call  a  guard  and  send  him  off  to  the  cells. 
We'll  look  into  the  business  in  the  morning.  Give  him  a 
glass  of  wine  first  though/ 

Little  Mildred  filled  a  sherry-glass  with  the  brandy 
and  thrust  it  over  to  the  man.  He  drank,  and  the  tune 
rose  louder,  and  he  straightened  himself  yet  more.  Then 
he  put  out  his  long-taloned  hands  to  a  piece  of  plate 
opposite  and  fingered  it  lovingly.  There  was  a  mystery 
connected  with  that  piece  of  plate,  in  the  shape  of  a  spring 
which  converted  what  was  a  seven-branched  candlestick, 
three  springs  on  each  side  and  one  in  the  middle,  into  a 
sort  of  wheel-spoke  candelabrum.  He  found  the  spring, 
pressed  it,  and  laughed  weakly.  He  rose  from  his  chair 
and  inspected  a  picture  on  the  wall,  then  moved  on  to 
another  picture,  the  mess  watching  him  without  a  word. 
When  he  came  to  the  mantelpiece  he  shook  his  head 
and  seemed  distressed.  A  piece  of  plate  representing  a 


THE  MAN   WHO   WAS  17? 

mounted  hussar  in  full  uniform  caught  his  eye.  He 
pointed  to  it,  and  then  to  the  mantelpiece  with  inquiry 
in  his  eyes. 

'  What  is  it— Oh  what  is  it  ? '  said  little  Mildred.  Then 
as  a  mother  might  speak  to  a  child,  '  That  is  a  horse. 
Yes,  a  horse.' 

Very  slowly  came  the  answer  in  a  thick,  passionless 
guttural  —  *  Yes,  I  —  have  seen.  But  —  where  is  the 
horse  ? ' 

You  could  have  heard  the  hearts  of  the  mess  beating 
as  the  men  drew  back  to  give  the  stranger  full  room  in  his 
wanderings.  There  was  no  question  of  calling  the  guard. 

Again  he  spoke — very  slowly,  '  Where  is  our  horse  ?' 

There  is  but  one  horse  m  the  White  Hussars,  and 
his  portrait  hangs  outside  the  door  of  the  mess-room. 
He  is  the  piebald  drum -horse,  the  king  of  the  regimental 
band,  that  served  the  regiment  for  seven-and-thirty  years, 
and  in  the  end  was  shot  for  old  age.  Half  the  mess  tore 
the  thing  down  from  its  place  and  thrust  it  into  the  man's 
hands.  He  placed  it  above  the  mantelpiece,  it  clattered 
on  the  ledge  as  his  poor  hands  dropped  it,  and  he  staggered 
towards  the  bottom  of  the  table,  falling  into  Mildred's  chair. 
Then  all  the  men  spoke  to  one  another  something  after 
this  fashion,  '  The  drum-horse  hasn't  hung  over  the 
mantelpiece  since  '67.'  'How  does  he  know?'  'Mildred, 
go  and  speak  to  him  again.'  '  Colonel,  what  are  you  going 
to  do?'  '  Oh,  dry  up,  and  give  the  poor  devil  a  chance  to 
pull  himself  together.'  '  It  isn't  possible  anyhow.  The 
man's  a  lunatic.' 

Little  Mildred  stood  at  the  colonel's  side  talking  in  his 
ear.  *  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  take  your  seats  please, 
gentlemen  !'  he  said,  and  the  mess  dropped  into  the  chairs. 
Only  Dirkovitch's  seat,  next  to  little  Mildred's,  was  blank, 
and  little  Mildred  himself  had  found  Jlira  Singh's  place. 


ITS  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

The  wide-eyed  mess-sergeant  filled  the  glasses  in  dead 
silence.  Once  more  the  colonel  rose,  but  his  hand  shook, 
and  the  port  spilled  on  the  table  as  he  looked  straight  at 
the  man  in  little  Mildred's  chair  and  said  hoarsely,  '  Mr. 
Vice,  the  Queen.'  There  was  a  little  pause,  but  the  man 
sprung  to  his  feet  and  answered  without  hesitation,  '  The 
Queen,  God  ble»s  her! 'and  as  he  emptied  the  thin  glass 
he  snapped  the  shank  between  his  lingers. 

Long  and  long  ago,  when  the  Empress  of  India  was  a 
young  woman  and  there  were  no  unclean  ideals  in  the 
land,  it  was  the  custom  of  a  few  messes  to  drink  the  Queen's 
toast  in  broken  glass,  to  the  vast  delight  of  the  mess- 
contractors.  The  custom  is  now  dead,  because  there  is 
nothing  to  break  anything  for,  except  now  and  again  the 
word  of  a  Government,  and  that  has  been  broken  already. 

'  That  settles  it,'  said  the  colonel,  with  a  gasp.  '  He's 
not  a  sergeant.  What  in  the  world  is  he?  ' 

The  entire  mess  echoed  the  word,  and  the  volley  of 
questions  would  have  scared  any  man.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  the  ragged,  filthy  invader  could  only  smile  and  shake 
his  head. 

From  under  the  table,  calm  and  smiling,  rose  Dirkovitch, 
who  had  been  roused  from  healthful  slumber  by  feet  upon 
his  body.  By  the  side  of  the  man  he  rose,  and  the  man 
shrieked  and  grovelled.  It  was  a  horrible  sight  coming 
so  swiftly  upon  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  toast  that  had 
brought  the  strayed  wits  together. 

Dirkovitch  made  no  offer  to  raise  him,  but  little  Mildred 
heaved  him  up  in  an  instant.  It  is  not  good  that  a  gentle- 
man who  can  answer  to  the  Queen's  toast  should  lie  at  the 
feet  of  a  subaltern  of  Cossacks. 

The  hasty  action  tore  the  wretch's  upper  clothing 
nearly  to  the  waist,  and  his  body  was  seamed  with  dry 
black  scars.  There  is  only  one  weapon  in  the  world  that 


THE   MAN   WHO   WAS  179 

cuts  in  parallel  lines,  and  it  is  neither  the  cane  nor  the 
cat.  Dirkovitch  saw  the  marks,  and  the  pupils  of  his 
eyes  dilated.  Also  his  face  changed.  He  said  something 
that  sounded  like  Shto  ve  takete,  and  the  mwi  fawning 
answered,  Chetyre. 

'What's  that?'  said  everybody  together. 

'His  number.  That  is  number  four,  you  know.' 
Dirkovitch  spoke  very  thickly. 

'  What  has  a  Queen's  officer  to  do  with  a  quaVfied 
number?'  said  the  Colonel,  and  an  unpleasant  growl  ran 
round  the  table. 

'How  can  I  tell?'  said  the  affable  Oriental  with  a 
sweet  smile.  'He  is  a — how  you  have  it? — escape — ru  i- 
a-way,  from  over  there.'  He  nodded  towards  the  darkness 
of  the  night. 

'Speak  to  him  if  he'll  answer  you,  and  s^>eak  to  him 
gently/  said  little  Mildred,  settling  the  man  in  a  chair. 
It  seemed  most  improper  to  all  present  that  Birkovitch 
should  sip  brandy  as  he  talked  in  purring,  spitting  Russian 
to  the  creature  who  answered  so  feebly  and  with  such 
evident  dread.  But  since  Dirkovitch  appeared  to  under 
stand  no  one  said  a  word.  All  breathed  heavily,  leaning 
forward,  in  the  long  gaps  of  the  conversation.  The  nex? 
time  that  they  have  no  engagements  ou  hand  the  White 
Hussars  intend  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  in  a  body  to  lean' 
Russian. 

'  He  does  not  know  how  many  years  ago,'  said  Dirkovitch, 
facing  the  mess,  'but  he  says  it  was  very  long  ago  in  a 
war.  I  think  that  there  was  an  accident.  He  says  he 
was  of  this  glorious  and  distinguished  regiment  in  the 
war.' 

'The  rolls!  The  rolls!  Holmer,  get  the  rolls!'  said 
little  Mildred,  and  the  adjutant  dashed  off  bare-headed  to 
the  orderly-room,  where  the  muster-rolls  of  the  regiment 


180  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

were  kept.  He  returned  just  in  time  to  hear  Dirkovitch 
conclude,  'Therefore,  my  dear  friends,  I  am  most  sorry  to 
say  there  was  an  accident  which  would  have  been  repa- 
rable if  he  had  apologised  to  that  our  colonel,  which  he  had 
insulted/ 

Then  followed  another  growl  which  the  colonel  tried 
to  beat  down.  The  mess  was  in  no  mood  just  then  to 
weigh  insults  to  Russian  colonels. 

'He  does  not  remember,  but  I  think  that  there  was 
an  accident,  and  so  he  was  not  exchanged  among  the 
prisoners,  but  he  was  sent  to  another  place — how  do  you 
say? — the  country.  So,  he  says,  he  came  here.  He  does 
not  know  how  he  came.  Eli  ?  He  was  at  Chepany ' — 
the  man  caught  the  word,  nodded,  and  shivered— 'at 
Zliigansk  and  Irkutsk.  I  cannot  understand  how  he 
escaped.  He  says,  too,  that  he  was  in  the  forests  for  many 
years,  but  how  many  years  he  has  forgotten — that  with 
many  things.  It  was  an  accident;  done  because  he  did 
not  apologise  to  that  our  colonel  Ah!' 

Instead  of  echoing  Dirkovitch's  sigh  of  regret,  it  is  sad 
to  record  that  the  White  Hussars  livelily  exhibited  un- 
Christian  delight  and  other  emotions,  hardly  restrained 
by  their  sense  of  hospitality.  Holmer  flung  the  frayed 
and  yellow  regimental  rolls  on  the  table,  and  the  men 
flung  themselves  at  these. 

'Steady!  Fifty-six — fifty-five— fifty-four/ said  Holmer. 
*  Here  we  are.  "  Lieutenant  Austin  Li  m  mason.  Missing" 
That  was  before  Sebastopol.  What  an  infernal  shame! 
Insulted  one  of  their  colonels,  and  was  quietly  shipped 
off.  Thirty  years  of  his  life  wiped  out.' 

'  But  he  never  apologised.  Said  he'd  see  him  damned 
first,'  chorused  the  mess. 

'Poor  chap!  I  suppose  he  never  had  the  chance  after- 
wards. How  did  he  come  here?'  said  the  colonel. 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  181 

The  dingy  heap  in  the  chair  could  give  no  answer. 

'Do  you  know  who  you  are?5 

It  laughed  weakly. 

'Do  you  know  that  you  are  Limmason — Lieutenant 
Li m mason  of  the  White  Hussars?' 

Swiftly  as  a  shot  came  the  answer,  in  a  slightly 
surprised  tone,  'Yes,  I'm  Limmason,  of  course.'  The  light 
died  out  in  his  eyes,  and  the  man  collapsed,  watching 
every  motion  of  Dirkovitch  with  terror.  A  flight  from 
Siberia  may  fix  a  few  elementary  facts  in  the  mind,  but 
it  does  not  seem  to  lead  to  continuity  of  thought.  The 
man  could  not  explain  how,  like  a  homing  pigeon,  he  had 
found  his  way  to  his  own  old  mess  again.  Of  what  he 
had  suffered  or  seen  he  knew  nothing.  He  cringed  before 
Dirkovitch  as  instinctively  as  he  had  pressed  the  spring 
of  the  candlestick,  sought  the  picture  of  the  drum-horse, 
and  answered  to  the  toast  of  the  Queen.  The  rest  was 
a  blank  that  the  dreaded  Russian  tongue  could  only  in 
part  remove.  His  head  bowed  on  his  breast,  and  he 
giggled  and  cowered  alternately. 

The  devil  that  lived  in  the  brandy  prompted  Dirko- 
vitch at  this  extremely  inopportune  moment  to  make  a 
speech.  He  rose,  swaying  slightly,  gripped  the  table-edge, 
while  his  eyes  glowed  like  opals,  and  began: 

'  Fellow-soldiers  glorious — true  friends  and  hospitables. 
It  was  an  accident,  and  deplorable — most  deplorable.' 
Here  he  smiled  sweetly  all  round  the  mess.  'But  you 
will  think  of  this  little,  little  thing.  So  little,  is  it  not  ? 
The  Czar  !  Posh !  I  slap  my  fingers — I  snap  my  fingers 
at  him.  Do  I  believe  in  him?  No!  But  in  us  Slav 
who  has  done  nothing,  hi  in  I  believe.  Seventy — how 
much — millions  peoples  that  have  done  nothing — not 
one  thing.  Posh!  Napoleon  was  an  episode.'  He 
banged  a  hand  on  the  table.  'Hear  you,  old  peoples, 


182  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

we  have  done  nothing  in  the  world — out  here.  All 
our  work  is  to  do;  and  it  shall  be  done,  old  peoples. 
Get  a- way ! '  lie  waved  his  hand  imperiously,  and 
pointed  to  the  man.  'You  see  him.  He  is  not  good  to 
see.  He  was  just  one  little  — oh,  so  little — accident,  that 
no  one  remembered.  Now  he  is  That !  So  will  you  be, 
brother  soldiers  so  brave — so  will  you  be.  But  you 
will  never  come  back.  You  will  all  go  where  he  is 
gone,  or' — he  pointed  to  the  great  coffin-shadow  on  the 
ceiling,  and  muttering,  'Seventy  millions — get  a-way,  you 
old  peoples,'  fell  asleep. 

'  Sweet,  and  to  the  point,'  said  little  Mildred.  '  What's 
the  use  of  getting  wroth  ?  Let's  make  this  poor  devil 
comfortable.' 

But  that  was  a  matter  suddenly  and  swiftly  taken 
from  the  loving  hands  of  the  White  Hussars.  The  lieu- 
tenant had  returned  only  to  go  away  again  three  days 
later,  when  the  wail  of  the  Dead  March,  and  the  tramp 
of  the  squadrons,  told  the  wondering  Station,  who  saw  no 
gap  in  the  mess-table,  that  an  officer  of  the  regiment  had 
resigned  his  new-found  commission. 

And  Dirkovitch,  bland,  supple,  and  always  genial,  went 
away  too  by  a  night  train.  Little  Mildred  and  another 
man  saw  him  off,  for  he  was  the  guest  of  the  mess,  and 
even  had  he  smitten  the  colonel  with  the  open  hand,  the 
law  of  that  mess  allowed  no  relaxation  of  hospitality. 

'Good-bye,  Dirkovitch,  and  a  pleasant  journey,'  said 
little  Mildred. 

'  An  revoir,'  said  the  Russian. 

'Indeed!     But  we  thought  you  were  going  home?' 

'Yes,  but  I  will  come  again.  My  dear  friends,  is 
that  road  shut?'  He  pointed  to  where  the  North  Star 
burned  over  the  Khyber  Pass. 

'By  Jove!     I   forgot.      Of  course.      Happy   to   meet 


THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  383 

you,  old  man,  any  time  you  like.  Got  everything  you 
want  ?  Cheroots,  ice,  bedding  ?  That's  all  right.  Well, 
au  revoir,  Dirkovitch/ 

'Urn/  said  the  other  man,  as  the  tail-lights  of  the 
train  grew  small.  '  Of — all — the — unmitigated ! ' 

Little  Mildred  answered  nothing,  but  watched  the 
north  star  and  hummed  a  selection  from  H  recent 
Simla  burlesque  that  had  much  delighted  the  White 
Hussars.  It  ran — 

I'm  sorry  for  Mister  Bluebeard, 
I'm  sorry  to  cause  him  pain  ; 
But  a  terrible  spree  there's  sure  to  be 
When  he  comes  back  again. 


THE  HEAD   OF  THE  DISTKICT 


There's  a  convict  more  In  the  Central  Jail, 

Behind  the  old  mud  wall ; 
There's  a  lifter  less  on  the  Border  trail, 
And  the  Queen's  Peace  over  all, 

Dear  boys, 
The  Queen's  Peace  over  all. 

For  we  must  bear  our  leader's  blame, 

On  us  the  shame  will  fall, 
If  we  lift  our  hand  from  a  fettered  land 
And  the  Queen's  Peace  over  all, 

Dear  boys, 
The  Queen's  Peace  over  all ! 

The  Itunning  of  tihindand. 


THE  Indus  had  risen  in  flood  without  warning.  Last 
night  it  was  a  fordable  shallow  ;  to-night  five  miles  of 
raving  muddy  water  parted  bank  and  caving  bank,  and 
the  river  was  still  rising  under  the  moon.  A  litter  borne 
by  six  bearded  men,  all  unused  to  the  work,  stopped  in 
the  white  sand  that  bordered  the  whiter  plain. 

'It's  God's  will/  they  said.  'We  dare  not  cross  to- 
night, even  in  a  boat.  Let  us  light  a  fire  and  cook  food. 
We  be  tired  men/ 

They  looked  at  the  litter  inquiringly.  Within,  the 
Deputy  Commissioner  of  the  Kot-Kumharsen  district 
lay  dying  of  fever.  They  had  brought  him  across 
country,  six  fighting-men  of  a  frontier  clan  that  he  had 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  185 

won  over  to  the  paths  of  a  moderate  righteousness, 
when  he  had  broken  down  at  the  foot  of  their  inhos- 
pitable hills.  And  Tallantire,  his  assistant,  rode  with 
them,  heavy-hearted  as  heavy-eyed  with  sorrow  and  lack 
of  sleep.  He  had  served  under  the  sick  man  for  three 
years,  and  had  learned  to  love  him  as  men  associated  in 
toil  of  the  hardest  learn  to  love — or  hate.  Dropping 
from  his  horse  he  parted  the  curtains  of  the  litter  and 
peered  inside. 

'Orde — Orde,  old  man,  can  you  hear?  We  have  to 
wait  till  the  river  goes  down,  worse  luck/ 

'  I  hear/  returned  a  dry  whisper.  '  Wait  till  the  river 
goes  down.  I  thought  we  should  reach  camp  before  the 
dawn.  Polly  knows.  She'll  meet  me.' 

One  of  the  litter-men  stared  across  the  river  and 
caught  a  faint  twinkle  of  light  on  the  far  side.  He 
whispered  to  Tallantire,  'There  are  his  camp-fires,  and 
his  wife.  They  will  cross  in  the  morning,  for  they  have 
better  boats.  Can  he  live  so  long?' 

Tallantire  shook  his  head.  Yardley-Orde  was  very 
near  to  death.  What  need  to  vex  his  soul  with  hopes 
of  a  meeting  that  could  not  be?  The  river  gulped  at 
the  banks,  brought  down  a  cliff  of  sand,  and  snarled  the 
more  hungrily.  The  litter-men  sought  for  fuel  in  the 
waste — dried  camel-thorn  and  refuse  of  the  camps  that 
had  waited  at  the  ford.  Their  sword-belts  clinked  as 
they  moved  softly  in  the  haze  of  the  moonlight,  and  Tal- 
lantire's  horse  coughed  to  explain  that  he  would  like  a 
blanket. 

'I'm  cold  too/  said  the  voice  from  the  litter.  'I 
fancy  this  is  the  end.  Poor  Polly! ' 

'Tallantire  rearranged  the  blankets;  Khoda  Dad  Khan, 
seeing  this,  stripped  off  his  own  heavy-wadded  sheepskin 
coat  and  added  it  to  the  pile.  '  I  shall  be  warm  by  the 


186  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

fire  presently/  said  he.  Talluntire  took  the  wasted  body 
of  his  chief  into  his  arms  and  held  it  against  his  breast. 
Perhaps  if  they  kept  him  very  warm  Orde  might  live  to 
see  his  wife  once  more.  If  only  blind  Providence  would 
send  a  three- foot  fall  in  the  river! 

'That's  better,'  said  Orde  faintly.  'Sorry  to  be  a 
nuisance,  but  is — is  there  anything  to  drink  ?' 

They  gave  him  milk  and  whisky,  and  Tallantire  felt 
a  little  warmth  against  his  o\vn  breast.  Orde  began  to 
mutter. 

'It  isn't  that  I  mind  dying,'  he  said.  'It's  leaving 
Polly  and  the  district.  Thank  God!  we  have  no  children. 
Dick,  you  know,  I'm  dipped — awfully  dipped — debts  in 
my  first  five  years'  service.  It  isn't  much  of  a  pension, 
but  enough  for  her.  She  has  her  mother  at  home. 
Getting  there  is  the  difficulty.  And — and — you  see,  not 
being  a  soldier's  wife ' 

'We'll  arrange  the  passage  home,  of  course/  said 
Tallantire  quietly. 

'  It's  not  nice  to  think  of  sending  round  the  hat ; 
but,  good  Lord!  how  many  men  I  lie  here  and  remem- 
ber that  had  to  do  it!  Morten's  dead — he  was  of  my 
year.  Shaughnessy  is  dead,  and  he  had  children  ;  I 
remember  he  used  to  read  us  their  school-letters  ;  what 
a  bore  we  thought  him  !  Evans  is  dead — Kot-Kum- 
harsen  killed  him  !  Kicketts  of  Myndonie  is  dead — and 
I'm  going  too.  "  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman  is  small 
potatoes  and  few  in  the  hill."  That  reminds  me,  Dick; 
the  four  Khusru  Kheyl  villages  in  our  border  want  a 
one-third  remittance  this  spring.  That's  fair ;  their 
crops  are  bad.  See  that  they  get  it,  and  speak  to  Ferris 
about  the  canal.  I  should  like  to  have  lived  till  that 
was  finished  ;  it  means  so  much  for  the  North-Indus 
villages — but  Ferris  is  an  idle  beggar — wake  him  up. 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  187 

You'll  have  charge  of  the  district  till  my  successor  comes. 
I  wish  they  would  appoint  you  permanently;  you  know 
the  folk.  I  suppose  it  will  be  Bullows,  though.  'Good 
man,  but  too  weak  for  frontier  work;  and  he  doesn't 
understand  the  priests.  The  blind  priest  at  Jagai  will 
bear  watching.  You'll  find  it  in  my  papers, — in  the 
uniform-case,  I  think.  Call  the  Khusru  Kheyl  men  up; 
I'll  hold  my  last  public  audience.  Khoda  Dad  Khan!' 

The  leader  of  the  men  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  litter, 
his  companions  following. 

'  Men,  I'm  dying,'  said  Orde  quickly,  in  the  vernacular; 
'  and  soon  there  will  be  no  more  Orde  Sahib  to  twist 
your  tails  and  prevent  you  from  raiding  cattle.' 

'God  forbid  this  thing!'  broke  out  the  deep  bass 
chorus.  '  The  Sahib  is  not  going  to  die.' 

'Yes,  he  is;  and  then  he  will  know  whether  Mahomed 
speaks  truth,  or  Moses.  But  you  must  be  good  men, 
when  I  am  not  here.  Such  of  you  as  live  in  our  borders 
must  pay  your  taxes  quietly  as  before.  I  have  spoken  of 
the  villages  to  be  gently  treated  this  year.  Such  of  you 
as  live  in  the  hills  must  refrain  from  cattle-lifting,  and 
burn  no  more  thatch,  and  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of 
the  priests,  who,  not  knowing  the  strength  of  the  Govern- 
ment, would  lead  you  into  foolish  wars,  wherein  you  will 
surely  die  and  your  crops  be  eaten  by  strangers.  And 
you  must  not  sack  any  caravans,  and  must  leave  your 
arms  at  the  police-post  when  you  come  in;  as  has  been 
your  custom,  and  my  order.  And  Tallantire  Sahib  will 
be  with  you,  but  I  do  not  know  who  takes  my  place.  I 
speak  now  true  talk,  for  I  am  as  it  were  already  dead, 
my  children, — for  though  ye  be  strong  men,  ye  are 
children.' 

'And  thou  art  our  father  and  our  mother,'  broke  in 
Khoda  Dad  Khan  with  an  oath.  'What  shall  we  do, 


188  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

now  there  is  no  one  to  speak  for  us,  or  to  teach  us  to 
go  wisely!' 

'There  remains  Tallantire  Sahib.  Go  to  him;  lie 
knows  your  talk  and  your  heart.  Keep  the  young  men 
quiet,  listen  to  the  old  men,  and  obey.  Khoda  Dad 
Klian,  take  my  ring.  The  watch  and  chain  go  to  thy 
brother.  Keep  those  things  for  my  sake,  and  I  will 
speak  to  whatever  God  I  may  encounter  and  tell  him 
that  the  Khusru  Kheyl  are  good  men.  Ye  have  my 
leave  to  go.' 

Khoda  Dad  Khan,  the  ring  upon  his  finger,  choked 
audibly  as  he  caught  the  well-known  formula  that  closed 
an  interview.  His  brother  turned  to  look  across  the 
river.  The  dawn  was  breaking,  and  a  speck  of  white 
showed  on  the  dull  silver  of  the  stream.  '  She  comes,' 
said  the  man  under  his  breath.  '  Can  he  live  for  another 
two  hours?'  And  he  pulled  the  newly-acquired  watch 
out  of  his  belt  and  looked  uncomprehendingly  at  the 
dial,  as  he  had  seen  Englishmen  do. 

For  two  hours  the  bellying  sail  tacked  and  blundered 
up  and  down  the  river,  Tallantire  still  clasping  Orde  in 
his  arms,  and  Khoda  Dad  Khan  chafing  his  feet.  He 
spoke  now  and  again  of  the  district  and  his  wife,  but,  as 
the  end  neared,  more  frequently  of  the  latter.  They 
hoped  he  did  not  know  that  she  was  even  then  risk- 
ing her  life  in  a  crazy  native  boat  to  regain  him.  But 
the  awful  foreknowledge  of  the  dying  deceived  them. 
Wrenching  himself  forward,  Orde  looked  through  the 
curtains  and  saw  how  near  was  the  sail.  'That's  Polly,' 
he  said  simply,  though  his  mouth  was  wried  with  agony. 
'  Polly  and — the  grimmest  practical  joke  ever  played  on  a 
man.  Dick — you'll — have — to — explain.' 

And  an  hour  later  Tallantire  met  on  the  bank  a 
woman  in  a  gingham  riding-habit  and  a  sun-hat  who 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  189 

cried  out  to  him  for  her  husband — her  boy  and  her  darling 
— while  Khoda  Dad  Khan  threw  himself  face-down  on 
the  sand  and  covered  his  eyes. 


ii 

The  very  simplicity  of  the  notion  was  its  charm.  What 
more  easy  to  win  a  reputation  for  far-seeing  statesman- 
ship, originality,  and,  above  all,  deference  to  the  desires 
of  the  people,  than  by  appointing  a  child  of  the  country 
to  the  rule  of  that  country?  Two  hundred  millions  of 
the  most  loving  and  grateful  folk  under  Her  Majesty's 
dominion  would  laud  the  fact,  and  their  praise  would 
endure  for  ever.  Yet  he  was  indifferent  to  praise  or 
blame,  as  befitted  the  Very  Greatest  of  All  the  Viceroys. 
His  administration  was  based  upon  principle,  and  the 
principle  must  be  enforced  in  season  and  out  of  season. 
His  pen  and  tongue  had  created  the  New  India,  teeming 
with  possibilities — loud-voiced,  insistent,  a  nation  among 
nations — all  his  very  own.  Wherefore  the  Very  Greatest 
of  All  the  Viceroys  took  another  step  in  advance,  and 
with  it  counsel  of  those  who  should  have  advised  him 
on  the  appointment  of  a  successor  to  Yardley-Orde. 
There  was  a  gentleman  and  a  member  of  the  Bengal  Civil 
Service  who  had  won  his  place  and  a  university  degree 
to  boot  in  fair  and  open  competition  with  the  sons  of 
the  English.  He  was  cultured,  of  the  world,  and,  if 
report  spoke  truly,  had  wisely  and,  above  all,  sympatheti- 
cally ruled  a  crowded  district  in  South-Eastern  Bengal. 
He  had  been  to  England  and  charmed  many  drawing- 
rooms  there.  His  name,  if  the  Viceroy  recollected  aright, 
was  Mr.  Grish  Clmnder  De,  M.A.  In  short,  did  anybody 
see  any  objection  to  the  appointment,  always  on  principle, 
of  a  man  of  the  people  to  rule  the  people?  The  district 


190  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

in  South-Eastern  Bengal  might  with  advantage,  he 
apprehended,  pass  over  to  a  younger  civilian  of  Mr.  G.  C. 
De's  nationality  (who  had  written  a  remarkably  clever 
pamphlet  on  the  political  value  of  sympathy  in  adminis- 
tration); and  Mr.  G.  C.  De  could  be  transferred  north- 
ward to  Kot-Kumharsen.  The  Viceroy  was  averse,  on 
principle,  to  interfering  with  appointments  under  control 
of  the  Provincial  Governments.  He  wished  it  to  be 
understood  that  he  merely  recommended  and  advised  in 
this  instance.  As  regarded  the  mere  question  of  race, 
Mr.  Grish  Chunder  De  was  more  English  than  the 
English,  and  yet  possessed  of  that  peculiar  sympathy 
and  insight  which  the  best  among  the  best  Service  in  the 
world  could  only  win  to  at  the  end  of  their  service. 

The  stern,  black-bearded  kings  who  sit  about  the 
Council-board  of  India  divided  071  the  step,  with  the  in- 
evitable result  of  driving  the  Very  Greatest  of  All  the 
Viceroys  into  the  borders  of  hyster'a,  and  a  bewildered 
obstinacy  pathetic  as  that  of  a  child. 

'  The  principle  is  sound  enough,'  said  the  weary-eyed 
Head  of  the  Red  Provinces  in  which  Kot-Kumharsen  lay, 
for  ho  too  held  theories.  '  The  only  difficulty  is ' 

'Put  the  screw  on  the  District  officials;  brigade  De 
with  a  very  strong  Deputy  Commissioner  on  each  side 
of  him;  give  him  the  best  assistant  in  the  Province; 
rub  the  fear  of  God  into  the  people  beforehand;  and  if 
anything  goes  wrong,  say  that  his  colleagues  didn't  back 
him  up.  All  these  lovely  little  experiments  recoil  on 
the  District-Officer  in  the  end,'  said  the  Knight  of  the 
Drawn  Sword  with  a  truthful  brutality  that  made  the 
Head  of  the  Red  Provinces  shudder.  And  on  a  tacit 
understanding  of  this  kind  the  transfer  was  accomplished, 
as  quietly  as  might  be  for  many  reasons. 

It  is  sad  to  think  that  what  goes  for  public  opinion 


THE   HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  191 

!iti  India  did  not  generally  see  the  wisdom  of  the  Viceroy's 
appointment.  There  were  not  lacking  indeed  hireling 
organs,  notoriously  in  the  pay  of  a  tyrannous  bureaucracy, 
who  more  than  hinted  that  His  Excellency  was  a  fool, 
a  dreamer  of  dreams,  a  doctrinaire,  and,  worst  of  all,  a 
trifler  with  the  lives  of  men.  '  The  Viceroy's  Excellence 
Gazette,'  published  in  Calcutta,  was  at  pains  to  thank 
'Our  beloved  Viceroy  for  once  more  and  again  thus 
gloriously  vindicating  the  potentialities  of  the  Bengali 
nations  for  extended  executive  and  administrative  duties 
in  foreign  parts  beyond  our  ken.  We  do  not  at  all 
doubt  that  our  excellent  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  Grish 
Chunder  De,  Esq.,  M.A.,  will  uphold  the  prestige  of  the 
Bengali,  notwithstanding  what  underhand  intrigue  arid 
peshbundi  may  be  set  on  foot  to  insidiously  nip  his  fame 
and  blast  his  prospects  among  the  proud  civilians,  some 
of  which  will  now  have  to  serve  under  a  despised  native 
and  take  orders  too.  How  will  you  like  that,  Misters  ? 
We  entreat  our  beloved  Viceroy  still  to  substantiate 
himself  superiorly  to  race-prejudice  and  colour-blindness, 
and  to  allow  the  flower  of  this  now  our  Civil  Service  all 
the  full  pays  and  allowances  granted  to  his  more  fortunate 
brethren.' 

in 

'  When  does  this  man  take  over  charge  ?  I'm  alone  just 
now,  and  I  gather  that  I'm  to  stand  fast  under  him.' 

'  Would  you  have  cared  for  a  transfer  ?'  said  Bullows 
keenly.  Then,  laying  his  hand  on  Tallantire's  shoulder  : 
'  We're  all  in  the  same  boat  ;  don't  desert  us.  And  yet, 
why  the  devil  should  you  stay,  if  you  can  get  another 
charge  ? ' 

'  It  was  Orde's,'  said  Tallantire  simply. 

'Well,. it's  Do's  now.     He's  a  Bengali  of  the  Bengalis, 


192  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

crammed  with  code  and  case  law  ;  a  beautiful  man  so  far 
as  routine  and  deskwork  go,  and  pleasant  to  talk  to. 
They  naturally  have  always  kept  him  in  his  own  home 
district,  where  all  his  sisters  and  his  cousins  and  his 
aunts  lived,  somewhere  south  of  Dacca.  He  did  no  more 
than  turn  the  place  into  a  pleasant  little  family  preserve, 
allowed  his  subordinates  to  do  what  they  liked,  and  let 
everybody  have  a  chance  at  the  shekels.  Consequently 
he's  immensely  popular  down  there.' 

*  I've  nothing  to  do  with  that.     How  on  earth  am  I  to 
explain  to  the  district  that  they  are  going  to  be  governed 
by  a  Bengali  ?     Do  you — does  the  Government,  I   mean 
— suppose  that  the    Khusru   Kheyl   will  sit  quiet  when 
they  once  know  ?     What   will  the  Mahomedan   heads  of 
villages   say  ?     How   will    the    police  -  Muzbi    Sikhs   and 
Pathans — how  will  they  work  under  him  ?     We  couldn't 
say  anything  if  the   Government  appointed   a  sweeper  ; 
but  my  people  will  say  a  good  deal,  you  know  that.     It's 
a  piece  of  cruel  folly  ! ' 

'  My  dear  boy,  I  know  all  that,  and  more.  I've  rep- 
resented it,  and  have  been  told  that  I  am  exhibiting 
"culpable  and  puerile  prejudice."  By  Jove,  if  the 
Khusru  Kheyl  don't  exhibit  something  worse  than  that 
I  don't  know  the  Border  !  The  chances  are  that  you 
will  have  the  district  alight  on  your  hands,  and  I  shall 
have  to  leave  my  work  and  help  you  pull  through.  I 
needn't  ask  you  to  stand  by  the  Bengali  man  in  every 
possible  way.  You'll  do  that  for  your  own  sake.' 

'  For  Orde's.  I  can't  say  that  I  care  twopence 
personally.' 

*  Don't  be  an  ass.     It's  grievous  enough,  God  knows, 
and   the   Government  will  know  later  on  ;  but   that's  no 
reason  for  your  sulking.      You  must  try  to  run  the  district; 
you  must   stand    between    him   and   as   much,  insult   as 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  193 

possible  ;  you  must  show  him  the  ropes  ;  you  must  pacify 
the  Khusru  Kheyl,  and  just  warn  Curbar  of  the  Police  to 
look  out  for  trouble  by  the  way.  I'm  always  at  the  end 
of  a  telegraph-wire,  and  willing  to  peril  my  reputation 
to  hold  the  district  together.  You'll  lose  yours,  of  course. 
If  you  keep  things  straight,  and  he  isn't  actually  beaten 
with  a  stick  when  he's  on  tour,  he'll  get  all  the  credit. 
If  anything  goes  wrong,  you'll  be  told  that  you  didn't 
support  him  loyally.' 

'  I  know  what  I've  got  to  do/  said  Tallantire  wearily, 
'and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  But  it's  hard.' 

'  The  work  is  with  us,  the  event  is  with  Allah, — as 
Orde  used  to  say  when  he  was  more  than  usually  in  hot 
water.'  And  Bullows  rode  away. 

That  two  gentlemen  in  Her  Majesty's  Bengal  Civil 
Service  should  thus  discuss  a  third,  also  in  that  service, 
and  a  cultured  and  affable  man  withal,  seems  strange  and 
saddening.  Yet  listen  to  the  artless  babble  of  the  Blind 
Mullah  of  Jagai,  the  priest  of  the  Khusru  Kheyl,  sitting 
upon  a  rock  overlooking  the  Border.  Five  years  before, 
a  chance-hurled  shell  from  a  screw-gun  battery  had 
dashed  earth  in  the  face  of  the  Mullah,  then  urging  a  rush 
of  Ghazis  against  half  a  dozen  British  bayonets.  So  he 
became  blind,  and  hated  the  English  none  the  less  for  the 
little  accident.  Yardley-Orde  knew  his  failing,  and  had 
many  times  laughed  at  him  therefor. 

*  Dogs  you  are,'  said  the  Blind  Mullah  to  the  listening 
tribesmen  round  the  fire.  '  Whipped  dogs  !  Because  you 
listened  to  Orde  Sahib  and  called  him  father  and  behaved 
as  his  children,  the  British  Government  have  proven  how 
they  regard  yon.  Orde  Sahib  ye  know  is  dead.' 

'  Ai  !  ai  !  ai  ! '  said  half  a  dozen  voices. 

'He  was  a  man.  Conies  now  in  his  stead,  whom  think 
ye?  A  Bengali  of  Bengal — an  eater  of  fish  from  the  South,' 


194  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'A  lie  !'  said  Khodsi  Dad  Khan.  'And  but  for  the 
small  matter  of  thy  priesthood,  I'd  drive  my  gun  butt- 
first  down  thy  throat.' 

'  Oho,  art  thou  there,  lickspittle  of  the  English  ?  Go 
in  to-morrow  across  the  Border  to  pay  service  to  Orde 
Sahib's  successor,  and  thou  shalt  slip  thy  shoes  at  the 
tent-door  of  a  Bengali,  a.s  thou  shalt  hand  thy  offering  to 
a  Bengali's  black  fist.  This  I  know;  and  in  my  youth, 
when  a  young  man  spoke  evil  to  a  Mullah  holding  the 
doors  of  Heaven  and  Hell,  the  gun-butt  was  not  rammed 
down  the  Mullah's  gullet.  No  ! ' 

The  Blind  Mullah  hated  Khoda  Dad  Khan  with 
Afghan  hatred  ;  both  being  rivals  for  the  headship  of  the 
tribe  ;  but  the  latter  was  feared  for  bodily  as  the  other  for 
spiritual  gifts.  Khoda  Dad  Khan  looked  at  Orde's  ring 
and  grunted,  '  I  go  in  to-morrow  because  I  am  not  an  old 
fool,  preaching  war  against  the  English.  If  the  Govern- 
ment, smitten  with  madness,  have  done  this,  then  .  .  / 

'  Then,'  croaked  the  Mullah,  '  thou  wilt  take  out  the 
young  men  and  strike  at  the  four  villages  within  the 
Border?' 

'  Or  wring  thy  neck,  black  raven  of  Jehannum,  for  a 
bearer  of  ill-tidings.' 

Khoda  Dad  Khan  oiled  his  long  locks  with  great  care, 
put  on  his  best  Bokhara  belt,  a  new  turban-cap  and  fine 
green  shoes,  and  accompanied  by  a  few  friends  came 
down  from  the  hills  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  new  Deputy 
Commissioner  of  Kot-Kumharsen.  Also  he  bore  tribute 
— four  or  five  priceless  gold  mohurs  of  Akbar's  time  in  a 
white  handkerchief.  These  the  Deputy  Commissioner 
would  touch  and  remit.  The  little  ceremony  used  to  be 
a  sign  that,  so  far  as  Khoda  Dad  Khan's  personal  influence 
went,  the  Khusru  Kheyl  would  be  good  boys, — till  the 
next  time  ;  especially  if  Khoda  Dan  Khan  happened  to 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  195 

like  the  new  Deputy  Commissioner.  In  Yardley-Orde's 
consulship  his  visit  concluded  with  a  sumptuous  dinner 
and  perhaps  forbidden  liquors ;  certainly  with  some 
wonderful  tales  and  great  good-fellowship.  Then  Khoda 
Dad  Khan  would  swagger  back  to  his  hold,  vowing  that 
Orde  Sahib  was  one  prince  and  Tallautire  Sahib  another, 
and  that  whosoever  went  a- raiding  into  British  territory 
would  be  flayed  alive.  On  this  occasion  he  found  the 
Deputy  Commissioner's  tents  looking  much  as  usual. 
Kegarding  himself  as  privileged  he  strode  through  the 
open  door  to  confront  a  suave,  portly  Bengali  in  English 
costume  writing  at  a  table.  Unversed  in  the  elevating 
influence  of  education,  and  not  in  the  least  caring  for 
university  degrees,  Khoda  Dad  Khan  promptly  set  the 
man  down  for  a  Babu — the  native  clerk  of  the  Deputy 
Commissioner — a  hated  and  despised  animal. 

'Ugh!'  said  he  cheerfully.  'Where's  your  master, 
Babu  jee  ? ' 

'I  am  the  Deputy  Commissioner,'  said  the  gentleman 
in  English. 

Now  he  overvalued  the  effects  of  university  degrees, 
and  stared  Khoda  Dad  Khan  in  the  face.  But  if  from 
your  earliest  infancy  you  have  been  accustomed  to  look 
on  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death,  if  spilt  blood  affects 
your  nerves  as  much  as  red  paint,  and,  above  all,  if  you 
have  faithfully  believed  that  the  Bengali  was  the  servant 
of  all  Hindustan,  and  that  all  Hindustan  was  vastly  in- 
ferior to  your  own  large,  lustful  self,  you  can  endure,  even 
though  uneducated,  a  very  large  amount  of  looking  over. 
You  can  even  stare  down  a  graduate  of  an  Oxford  college 
if  the  latter  has  been  born  in  a  hothouse,  of  stock  bred 
in  a  hothouse,  and  fearing  physical  pain  as  some  men 
fear  sin  ;  especially  if  your  opponent's  mother  has 
frightened  him  to  sleep  in  his  youth  with  horrible  stories 


196  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

of  devils  inhabiting  Afghanistan,  and  dismal  legends  of 
the  black  North.  The  eyes  behind  the  gold  spectacles 
sought  the  floor.  Khoda  Dad  Khan  chuckled,  and  swung 
out  to  find  Tallantire  hard  by.  '  Here/  said  he  roughly, 
thrusting  the  coins  before  him,  'touch  and  remit.  That 
answers  for  nu/  good  behaviour.  But,  0  Sahib,  has  the 
Government  gone  mad  to  send  a  black  Bengali  dog  to  us? 
And  am  I  to  pay  service  to  such  an  one  ?  And  are  you 
to  work  under  him  ?  What  does  it  mean?' 

'It  is  an  order,'  said  Tallantire.  He  had  expected 
something  of  this  kind.  '  He  is  a  very  clever  S-sahib/ 

'He  a  Sahib!  He's  a  *kala  adini — a  black  man- 
unfit  to  run  at  the  tail  of  a  potter's  donkey.  All  the 
peoples  of  the  earth  have  harried  Bengal.  It  is  written. 
Thou  knowest  when  we  of  the  North  wanted  women  or 
plunder  whither  went  we?  To  Bengal — where  else? 
What  child's  talk  is  this  of  Sahibdom — after  Orde  Sahib 
too  !  Of  a  truth  the  Blind  Mullah  was  right/ 

'What  of  him?'  asked  Tallantire  uneasily.  He  mis- 
trusted that  old  man  with  his  dead  eyes  and  his  deadly 
tongue. 

'  Nay,  now,  because  of  the  oath  that  I  sware  to  Orde 
Sahib  when  we  watched  him  die  by  the  river  yonder,  I 
will  tell.  In  the  first  place,  is  it  true  that  the  English 
have  set  the  heel  of  the  Bengali  on  their  own  neck,  and 
that  there  is  no  more  English  rule  in  the  land  ? ' 

'I  am  here/  said  Tallantire,  'and  I  serve  the  Maha- 
ranee of  England/ 

'The  Mullah  said  otherwise,  and  further  that  because 
we  loved  Orde  Sahib  the  Government  sent  us  a  pig  to 
show  that  we  were  dogs,  who  till  now  have  been  held  by 
the  strong  hand.  Also  that  they  were  taking  away  the 
white  soldiers,  that  more  Hindustanis  might  come,  and 
that  all  was  changing.' 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  197 

This  is  the  worst  of  ill-considered  handling  of  a  very 
large  country.  What  looks  so  feasible  in  Calcutta,  so  right 
in  Bombay,  so  unassailable  in  Madras,  is  misunderstood 
by  the  North  and  entirely  changes  its  complexion  on  the 
banks  of  the  Indus.  Khoda  Dad  Khan  explained  as 
clearly  as  he  could  that,  though  he  himself  intended  to 
be  good,  he  really  could  not  answer  for  the  more  reckless 
members  of  his  tribe  under  the  leadership  of  the  Blind 
Mullah.  They  might  or  they  might  not  give  trouble, 
but  they  certainly  had  no  intention  whatever  of  obeying 
the  new  Deputy  Commissioner.  Was  Tallantire  perfectly 
sure  that  in  the  event  of  any  systematic  border-raiding 
the  force  in  the  district  could  put  it  down  promptly? 

'Tell  the  Mullah  if  he  talks  any  more  fool's  talk,'  said 
Tallantire  curtly,  '  that  he  takes  his  men  on  to  certain 
death,  and  his  tribe  to  blockade,  trespass-fine,  and  blood- 
money.  But  why  do  I  talk  to  one  who  no  longer  carries 
weight  in  the  counsels  of  the  tribe  ? ' 

Khoda  Dad  Khan  pocketed  that  insult.  He  had 
learned  something  that  he  much  wanted  to  know,  and 
returned  to  his  hills  to  be  sarcastically  complimented  by 
the  Mullah,  whose  tongue  raging  round  the  camp-fires  was 
deadlier  flame  than  ever  dung-cake  fed. 

rv 

Be  pleased  to  consider  here  for  a  moment  the  unknown 
district  of  Kot-Kumharsen.  It  lay  cut  lengthways  by 
the  Indus  under  the  line  of  the  Khusru  hills — ramparts 
of  useless  earth  and  tumbled  stone.  It  was  seventy  miles 
long  by  fifty  broad,  maintained  a  population  of  something 
less  than  two  hundred  thousand,  and  paid  taxes  to  the 
extent  of  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year  on  an  area  that 
was  by  rather  more  than  half  sheer,  hopeless  waste.  The 


198  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

cultivators  were  not  gentle  people,  the  miners  for  salt 
were  less  gentle  still,  and  the  cattle-breeders  least  gentle 
of  all.  A  police-post  in  the  top  right-hand  corner  and  a 
tiny  mud  fort  in  the  top  left-hand  corner  prevented  as 
much  salt-smuggling  and  cuttle-lifting  as  the  influence  of 
the  civilians  could  not  put  down ;  and  in  the  bottom 
right-hand  corner  lay  Jumala,  the  district  headquarters 
— a  pitiful  knot  of  lime-washed  barns  facetiously  rented 
as  houses,  reeking  with  frontier  fever,  leaking  in  the  rain, 
and  ovens  in  the  summer. 

It  was  to  this  place  that  Grish  Chunder  De  was 
travelling,  there  formally  to  take  over  charge  of  the  district. 
But  the  news  of  his  coming  had  gone  before.  Bengalis 
were  as  scarce  as  poodles  among  the  simple  Borderers, 
who  cut  each  other's  heads  open  with  their  long  spades 
and  worshipped  impartially  at  Hindu  and  Mahomedan 
shrines.  They  crowded  to  see  him,  pointing  at  him,  and 
diversely  comparing  him  to  a  gravid  milch-buffalo,  or  a 
broken-down  horse,  as  their  limited  range  of  metaphor 
prompted.  They  laughed  at  his  police-guard,  and  wished 
to  know  how  long  the  burly  Sikhs  were  going  to  lead 
Bengali  apes.  They  inquired  whether  he  had  brought  his 
women  with  him,  and  advised  him  explicitly  not  to  tamper 
with  theirs.  It  remained  for  a  wrinkled  hag  by  the  road- 
side to  slap  her  lean  breasts  as  he  passed,  crying,  'I  have 
suckled  six  that  could  have  eaten  six  thousand  of  him. 
The  Government  shot  them,  and  made  this  That  a  king  ! ' 
Whereat  a  blue-turbaned  huge-boned  plough-mender 
shouted,  'Have  hope,  mother  o'  mine!  He  may  yet  go 
the  way  of  thy  wastrels.'  And  the  children,  the  little 
brown  puff-balls,  regarded  curiously.  It  was  generally  a 
good  thing  for  infancy  to  stray  into  Orde  Sahib's  tent, 
where  copper  coins  were  to  be  won  for  the  mere  wishing, 
and  tales  of  the  most  authentic,  such  as  even  their  mothers 


THE  HEAD  OP  THE  DISTRICT  199 

knew  but  the  first  half  of.  No!  This  fat  black  man 
could  never  tell  them  how  Pir  Prith  hauled  the  eye-teeth 
out  of  ten  devils;  how  the  big  stones  came  to  lie  all  in 
a  row  on  top  of  the  Khusru  hills,  and  what  happened  if 
you  shouted  through  the  village-gate  to  the  gray  wolf  at 
even  '  Badl  Khas  is  dead/  Meantime  Grish  Chimder  De 
talked  hastily  and  much  to  Tallantire,  after  the  manner 
of  those  who  are  '  more  English  than  the  English/ — of 
Oxford  and  *  home,'  with  much  curious  book-knowledge  of 
bump-suppers,  cricket-matches,  hunting-rims,  and  other 
unholy  sports  of  the  alien.  '  We  must  get  these  fellows 
in  hand,'  he  said  once  or  twice  uneasily;  'get  them  well 
in  hand,  and  drive  them  on  a  tight  rein.  No  use,  you 
know,  being  slack  with  your  district.' 

And  a  moment  later  Tallantire  heard  Debendra  Nath 
De,  who  brotherliwise  had  followed  his  kinsman's  fortune 
and  hoped  for  the  shadow  of  his  protection  as  a  pleader, 
whisper  in  Bengali,  '  Better  are  dried  fish  at  Dacca  than 
drawn  swords  at  Delhi.  Brother  of  mine,  these  men  are 
devils,  as  our  mother  said.  And  you  will  always  have  to 
ride  upon  a  horse  ! ' 

That  night  there  was  a  public  audience  in  a  broken- 
down  little  town  thirty  miles  from  Jumala,  when  the  new 
Deputy  Commissioner,  in  reply  to  the  greetings  of  the 
subordinate  native  officials,  delivered  a  speech.  It  was  a 
carefully  thought-out  speech,  which  would  have  been  very 
valuable  had  not  his  third  sentence  begun  with  three 
innocent  words,  '  Hamara  liookum  liai — It  is  my  order.' 
Then  there  was  a  laugh,  clear  and  bell-like,  from  the  back 
of  the  big  tent,  where  a  few  border  landholders  sat,  and 
the  laugh  grew  and  scorn  mingled  with  it,  and  the  lean, 
keen  face  of  Debendra  Xath  De  paled,  and  Grish  Clumder 
turning  to  Tallantire  spake:  '  Vim — you  put  up  this 
arrangement.'  Upon  that  instant  the  noise  of  hoofs  rang 


200  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

without,  and  there  entered  Curbar,  the  District  Superin- 
tendent of  Police,  sweating  and  dusty.  The  State  had 
tossed  him  into  a  corner  of  the  province  for  seventeen 
weary  years,  there  to  check  smuggling  of  salt,  and  to  hope 
for  promotion  that  never  came.  He  had  forgotten  how 
to  keep  his  white  uniform  clean,  had  screwed  rusty  spurs 
into  patent-leather  shoes,  and  clothed  his  head  indifferently 
with  a  helmet  or  a  turban.  Soured,  old,  worn  with  heat 
and  cold,  he  waited  till  he  should  be  entitled  to  sufficient 
pension  to  keep  him  from  starving. 

'  Tallantire,'  said  he,  disregarding  Grish  Chunder  De, 
'come  outside.  I  want  to  speak  to  you.'  They  withdrew. 
'It's  this/  continued  Curbar.  'The  Khusru  Kheyl  have 
rushed  and  cut  up  half  a  dozen  of  the  coolies  on  Ferris's 
new  canal-embankment;  killed  a  couple  of  men  and 
carried  off  a  woman.  I  wouldn't  trouble  you  about  that 
— Ferris  is  after  them  and  Hugonin,  my  assistant,  with 
ten  mounted  police.  But  that's  only  the  beginning,  I 
fancy.  Their  fires  are  out  on  the  Hassan  Ardeb  heights, 
and  unless  we're  pretty  quick  there'll  be  a  flare-up  all 
along  our  Border.  They  are  sure  to  raid  the  four  Khusru 
villages  on  our  side  of  the  line;  there's  been  bad  blood 
between  them  for  years;  and  you  know  the  Blind  Mullah 
has  been  preaching  a  holy  war  since  Orde  went  out. 
What's  your  notion  ? ' 

'  Damn ! '  said  Tallantire  thoughtfully.  '  They've  begun 
quick.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  I'd  better  ride  off  to  Fort 
Ziar  and  get  what  men  I  can  there  to  picket  among 
the  lowland  villages,  if  it's  not  too  late.  Tommy  Dodd 
commands  at  Fort  Ziar,  I  .think.  Ferris  and  Hugonin 
ought  to  teach  the  canal-thieves  a  lesson,  and—  -  No, 
we  can't  have  the  Head  of  the  Police  ostentatiously 
guarding  the  Treasury.  You  go  back  to  the  canal.  I'll 
wire  Bullows  to  come  into  Jumala  with  a  strong  police- 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  201 

guard,  and  sit  on  the  Treasury.  They  won't  touch  the 
place,  but  it  looks  well.' 

'  I — I — I  insist  upon  knowing  what  this  means,'  said 
the  voice  of  the  Deputy  Commissioner,  who  had  followed 
the  speakers. 

'Oh!'  said  Curbar,  who  being  in  the  Police  could  not 
understand  that  fifteen  years  of  education  must,  on 
principle,  change  the  Bengali  into  a  Briton.  '  There  has 
been  a  fight  on  the  Border,  and  heaps  of  men  are  killed. 
There's  going  to  be  another  fight,  and  heaps  more  will  be 
killed.' 

'What  for?' 

'Because  the  teeming  millions  of  this  district  don't 
exactly  approve  of  you,  and  think  that  under  your  benign 
rule  they  are  going  to  have  a  good  time.  It  strikes  me 
that  you  had  better  make  arrangements.  I  act,  as  you 
know,  by  your  orders.  What  do  you  advise  ?' 

'I — I  take  you  all  to  witness  that  I  have  not  yet 
assumed  charge  of  the  district,'  stammered  the  Deputy 
Commissioner,  not  in  the  tones  of  the  'more  English.' 

'  Ah,  I  thought  so.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Tallantire, 
your  plan  is  sound.  Carry  it  out.  Do  you  want  an  escort  ? ' 

'No;  only  a  decent  horse.  But  how  about  wiring  to 
headquarters  ? ' 

'  I  fancy,  from  the  colour  of  his  cheeks,  that  your 
superior  officer  will  send  some  wonderful  telegrams  before 
the  night's  over.  Let  him  do  that,  and  we  shall  have 
half  the  troops  of  the  province  coming  up  to  see  what's  the 
trouble.  Well,  run  along,  and  take  care  of  yourself — the 
Khusru  Kheyl  jab  upwards  from  below,  remember.  Ho! 
Mir  Khan,  give  Tallantire  Sahib  the  best  of  the  horses, 
and  tell  five  men  to  ride  to  Juinala  with  the  Deputy 
Commissioner  Sahib  Bahadur.  There  is  a  hurry  toward.' 

There  was;  and  it  was   not  in   the  least  bettered  by 


202  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Debendra  Nath  De  clinging  to  a  policeman's  bridle  and 
demanding  the  shortest,  the  very  shortest  way  to  Jumala. 
Now  originality  is  fatal  to  the  Bengali.  Debendra  Nath 
should  have  stayed  with  his  brother,  who  rode  steadfastly 
for  Jumala  on  the  railway-line,  thanking  gods  entirely 
unknown  to  the  most  catholic  of  universities  that  he  had 
not  taken  charge  of  the  district,  and  could  still — happy 
resource  of  a  fertile  race! — fall  sick. 

And  I  grieve  to  say  that  when  he  reached  his  goal 
two  policemen,  not  devoid  of  rude  wit,  who  had  been  con- 
ferring together  as  they  bumped  in  their  saddles,  arranged 
an  entertainment  for  his  behoof.  It  consisted  of  first  one 
and  then  the  other  entering  his  room  with  prodigious 
details  of  war,  the  massing  of  bloodthirsty  and  devilish 
tribes,  and  the  burning  of  towns.  It  was  almost  as  good, 
said  these  scamps,  as  riding  with  Curbar  after  evasive 
Afghans.  Each  invention  kept  the  hearer  at  work  for 
half  an  hour  on  telegrams  which  the  sack  of  Delhi  would 
hardly  have  justified.  To  every  power  that  could  move 
a  bayonet  or  transfer  a  terrified  man,  Grish  Chunder  De- 
appealed  telegraphically.  He  was  alone,  his  assistants 
had  fled,  and  in  truth  he  had  not  taken  over  charge  of 
the  district.  Had  the  telegrams  been  despatched  many 
things  would  have  occurred;  but  since  the  only  signaller 
in  Jumala  had  gone  to  bed,  and  the  station-master,  aftei 
one  look  at  the  tremendous  pile  of  paper,  discovered  that 
railway  regulations  forbade  the  forwarding  of  imperial 
messages,  policemen  Ram  Singh  and  Nihal  Singh  were 
fain  to  turn  the  stuff  into  a  pillow  and  slept  on  it 
very  comfortably. 

Tallantire  drove  his  spurs  into  a  rampant  skewbald 
stallion  with  china-blue  eyes,  and  settled  himself  for  the 
forty-mile  ride  to  Fort  Ziar.  Knowing  Irs  district  blind- 
fold, he  wasted  no  time  hunting  for  short  cuts,  but  headed 


THE   HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  203 

across  the  richer  grazing-grouncl  to  the  ford  where  Orde 
had  died  and  been  buried.  The  dusty  ground  deadened 
the  noise  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  the  moon  threw  his  shadow, 
a  restless  goblin,  before  him,  and  the  heavy  dew  drenched 
him  to  the  skin.  Hillock,  scrub  that  brushed  against  the 
horse's  belly,  unmetalled  road  where  the  whip-like  foliage 
of  the  tamarisks  lashed  his  forehead,  illimitable  levels  of 
lowland  furred  with  bent  and  speckled  with  drowsing 
cattle,  waste,  and  hillock  anew,  dragged  themselves  past, 
and  the  skewbald  was  labouring  in  the  deep  sand  of  the 
Indus- ford.  Tallantire  was  conscious  of  no  distinct 
thought  till  the  nose  of  the  dawdling  ferry-boat  grounded 
on  the  farther  side,  and  his  horse  shied  snorting  at  the 
white  headstone  of  Orde's  grave.  Then  he  uncovered, 
and  shouted  that  the  dead  might  hear,  '  They're  out,  old 
man!  Wish  me  luck.'  In  the  chill  of  the  dawn  he  was 
hammering  with  a  stirrup-iron  at  the  gate  of  Fort  Ziar, 
where  fifty  sabres  of  that  tattered  regiment,  the  Belooch 
Beshaklis  were  supposed  to  guard  Her  Majesty's  interests 
along  a  few  hundred  miles  of  Border.  This  particular 
fort  was  commanded  by  a  subaltern,  who,  born  of  the 
ancient  family  of  the  Derouletts,  naturally  answered  to  the 
name  of  Tommy  Dodd.  Hiri  Tallantire  found  robed  in  a 
sheepskin  coat,  shaking  with  fever  like  an  aspen,  and 
trying  to  read  the  native  apothecary's  list  of  invalids. 

'So  you've  come,  too,'  said  he.  'Well,  we're  all  sick 
here,  and  I  don't  think  I  can  horse  thirty  men;  but  we're 
bub — bub — bub  blessed  willing.  Stop,  does  this  impress 
you  as  a  trap  or  a  lie?'  He  tossed  a  scrap  of  paper 
to  Tallantire,  on  which  was  written  painfully  in  crabbed 
Gurmukhi,  'We  cannot  hold  young  horses.  They  will 
feed  after  the  moon  goes  down  in  the  four  border  villages 
issuing  from  the  Jagai  pass  on  the  next  night.'  Then  in 
English  round  hand — 'Your  sincere  friend.' 


204  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'Good  man!'  said  Tallantire.  'That's  Khoda  Dad 
Khan's  work,  I  know.  It's  the  only  piece  of  English  he 
could  ever  keep  in  his  head,  and  he  is  immensely  proud 
of  it.  He  is  playing  against  the  Blind  Mullah  for  his 
own  hand — the  treacherous  young  ruffian!' 

'  Don't  know  the  politics  of  the  Khusru  Kheyl,  but  if 
you're  satisfied,  I  am.  That  was  pitched  in  over  the  gate- 
head  last  night,  and  I  thought  we  might  pull  ourselves 
together  and  see  what  was  on.  Oh,  hut  we're  sick  with 
fever  here  and  no  mistake!  Is  this  going  to  be  a  big 
business,  think  you  ? '  said  Tommy  Dodd. 

Tallantire  gave  him  briefly  the  outlines  of  the  case,  and 
Tommy  Dodd  whistled  and  shook  with  fever  alternately. 
That  day  he  devoted  to  strategy,  the  art  of  war,  and  the 
enlivenment  of  the  invalids,  till  at  dusk  there  stood  ready 
forty-two  troopers,  lean,  worn,  and  dishevelled,  whom 
Tommy  Dodd  surveyed  with  pride,  and  addressed  thus:  '0 
men!  If  you  die  you  will  go  to  Hell.  Therefore  endeavour 
to  keep  alive.  But  if  you  go  to  Hell  that  place  cannot  be 
hotter  than  this  place,  and  we  are  not  told  that  we  shall 
there  suffer  from  fever.  Consequently  be  not  afraid  of 
dying.  File  out  there!'  They  grinned,  and  went. 


It  will  be  long  ere  the  Khusru  Khcyl  forget  their 
night  attack  on  the  lowland  villages.  The  Mullah  had 
promised  an  easy  victory  and  unlimited  plunder;  but 
behold,  armed  troopers  of  the  Queen  had  risen  out  of 
the  very  earth,  cutting,  slashing,  and  riding  down  under 
the  stars,  so  that  no  man  knew  where  to  turn,  and  all 
feared  that  they  had  brought  an  army  about  their  ears, 
and  ran  back  to  the  hills.  In  the  panic  of  that  flight 
more  men  were  seen  to  drop  from  wounds  inflicted  by 


THE  HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  205 

an  Afghan  knife  jabbed  upwards,  and  yet  more  from 
iong-range  carbine-fire.  Then  there  rose  a  cry  of  treachery, 
and  when  they  reached  their  own  guarded  heights,  they 
had  left,  with  some  forty  dead  and  sixty  wounded,  all 
their  confidence  in  the  Blind  Mullah  on  the  plains  below. 
They  clamoured,  swore,  and  argued  round  the  fires;  the 
women  wailing  for  the  lost,  and  the  Mullah  shrieking 
curses  on  the  returned. 

Then  Khoda  Dad  Khan,  eloquent  and  unbreathed, 
for  he  had  taken  no  part  in  the  fight,  rose  to  im- 
prove the  occasion.  He  pointed  out  that  the  tribe 
owed  every  item  of  its  present  misfortune  to  the 
Blind  Mullah,  who  had  lied  in  every  possible  particular 
and  talked  them  into  a  trap.  It  was  undoubtedly  an 
insult  that  a  Bengali,  the  son  of  a  Bengali,  should 
presume  to  administer  the  Border,  but  that  fact  did 
not,  as  the  Mullah  pretended,  herald  a  general  time  of 
license  and  lifting;  and  the  inexplicable  madness  of 
the  English  had  not  in  the  least  impaired  their  power 
of  guarding  their  marches.  On  the  contrary,  the  baffled 
and  out-generalled  tribe  would  now,  just  when  their 
food-stock  was  lowest,  be  blockaded  from  any  trade 
with  Hindustan  until  they  had  sent  hostages  for  good 
behaviour,  paid  compensation  for  disturbance,  and  blood- 
money  at  the  rate  of  thirty-six  English  pounds  per  head 
for  every  villager  that  they  might  have  slain.  '  And  ye 
know  that  those  lowland  dogs  will  make  oath  that  we 
have  slain  scores.  Will  the  Mullah  pay  the  fines  or  must 
we  sell  our  guns?'  A  low  growl  ran  round  the  fires. 
'  Now,  seeing  that  all  this  is  the  Mullah's  work,  and  that 
we  have  gained  nothing  but  promises  of  Paradise  thereby, 
it  is  in  my  heart  that  we  of  the  Khusru  Khevl  lack  a 
shrine  whereat  to  pray.  We  are  weakened,  and  hence- 
forth how  shall  we  dare  to  cross  into  the  Madar  Kheyl 


206  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

border,  as  has  been  our  custom,  to  kneel  to  Pir  Sajji's 
tomb  ?  The  Madur  men  will  fall  upon  us,  and  rightly. 
But  our  Mullah  is  a  holy  man.  lie  has  helped  two 
score  of  us  into  Paradise  this  night.  Let  him  there^ 
fore  accompany  his  flock,  and  we  will  build  over  his 
body  a  dome  of  the  blue  tiles  of  Mooltan,  and  burn 
lamps  at  his  feet  every  Friday  night.  lie  shall  be  a 
saint:  we  shall  have  a  shrine;  and  there  our  women 
shall  pray  for  fresh  seed  to  fill  the  gaps  in  our  fighting- 
tale.  How  think  you?' 

A  grim  chuckle  followed  the  suggestion,  and  the  soft 
wheep,  wheep  of  unscabbarded  knives  followed  the  chuckle. 
It  was  an  excellent  notion,  and  met  a  long  felt  want  of 
the  tribe.  The  Mullah  sprang  to  his  feet,  glaring  with 
withered  eyeballs  at  the  drawn  death  he  could  not  see, 
and  calling  down  the  curses  of  God  and  Mahomed  on 
the  tribe.  Then  began  a  game  of  blind  man's  buff  round 
and  between  the  fires,  whereof  Khuruk  Shah,  the  tribal 
poet,  has  sung  in  verse  that  will  not  die. 

They  tickled  him  gently  under  the  armpit  with  the 
knife-point.  He  leaped  aside  screaming,  only  to  feel  a 
cold  blade  drawn  lightly  over  the  back  of  his  neck,  or  a 
rifle-muzzle  rubbing  his  beard.  He  called  on  his  ad- 
herents to  aid  him,  but  most  of  these  lay  dead  on  the 
plains,  for  Khoda  Dad  Khan  had  been  at  some  pains  to 
arrange  their  decease.  Men  described  to  him  the  glories 
of  the  shrine  they  would  build,  and  the  little  children 
clapping  their  hands  cried,  '  Run,  Mullah,  run  !  There's 
a  man  behind  you ! '  In  the  end,  when  the  sport  wearied, 
Khoda  Dad  Khan's  brother  sent  a  knife  home  between  his 
ribs.  '  Wherefore,'  said  Khoda  Dad  Khan  with  charming 
simplicity,  'lam  now  Chief  of  the  Klmsru  Kheyl!'  No 
man  gainsaid  him;  and  they  all  went  to  sleep  very  stiff 
and  sore. 


THE   HEAD  OF  THE  DISTRICT  207 

On  the  plain  below  Tommy  Dodd  was  lecturing 
on  the  beauties  of  a  cavalry  charge  by  night,  and 
Tallantire,  bowed  on  his  saddle,  was  gasping  hysteri- 
cally because  there  was  a  sword  dangling  from  his 
wrist  flecked  with  the  blood  of  the  Khusru  Kheyl,  the 
tribe  that  Orde  had  kept  in  leash  so  well.  AVhen  a 
Rajpoot  trooper  pointed  out  that  the  skewbald's  right 
ear  had  been  taken  off  at  the  root  by  some  blind  slash  of 
its  unskilled  rider,  Tallantire  broke  down  altogether,  and 
laughed  and  sobbed  till  Tommy  Dodd  made  him  lie 
down  and  rest. 

'  We  must  wait  about  till  the  morning/  said  he.  '  I 
wired  to  the  Colonel  just  before  we  left,  to  send  a 
wing  of  the  Beshaklis  after  us.  He'll  be  furious  with 
me  for  monopolising  the  fun,  though.  Those  beggars 
in  the  hills  won't  give  us  any  more  trouble.' 

'Then  tell  the  Beshaklis  to  go  on  and  see  what 
has  happened  to  Curbar  on  the  canal.  We  must 
patrol  the  whole  line  of  the  Border.  You're  quite  sure, 
Tommy,  that — that  stuff  was — was  only  the  skewbald's 
ear?' 

'Oh,  quite/  said  Tommy.  'You  just  missed  cutting 
off  his  head.  I  saw  you  when  we  went  into  the  mess. 
Sleep,  old  man.' 

Noon  brought  two  squadrons  of  Beshaklis  and  a 
knot  of  furious  brother  officers  demanding  the  court- 
martial  of  Tommy  Dodd  for  'spoiling  the  picnic/  and 
a  gallop  across  country  to  the  canal -works  where 
Ferris,  Curbar,  and  Hugonin  were  haranguing  the 
terror-stricken  coolies  on  the  enormity  of  abandoning 
good  work  and  high  pay,  merely  because  half  a  dozen 
of  their  fellows  had  been  cut  down.  The  sight  of 
a  troop  of  the  Beshaklis  restored  wavering  confidence, 
and  the  police-hunted  section  of  the  Khusru  Kheyl 


208  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

had  the  joy  of  watching  the  canal -bank  humming 
with  life  as  usual,  while  such  of  their  men  as  ha<i 
taken  refuge  in  the  water  -  courses  and  ravines  were 
being  driven  out  by  the  troopers.  By  sundown  began 
the  remorseless  patrol  of  the  Border  by  police  an;! 
trooper,  most  like  the  COM -boys'  eternal  ride  round 
restless  cattle. 

'Now,'  said  Khoda  Dad  Khan  to  his  fellows,  pointing 
out  a  line  of  twinkling  fires  below,  'ye  may  see  how  far 
the  old  order  changes.  After  their  horse  will  come  the 
little  devil-guns  that  they  can  drag  up  to  the  tops  of 
the  hills,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  to  the  clouds 
when  we  crown  the  hills.  If  the  tribe-council  thinks 
good,  I  will  go  to  Tallantire  Sahib — who  loves  me — 
and  see  if  I  can  stave  off  at  least  the  blockade.  Do  I 
speak  for  the  tribe  ? ' 

'Ay,  speak  for  the  tribe  in  God's  name.  How  those 
accursed  fires  wink!  Do  the  English  send  their  troops 
on  the  wire — or  is  this  the  work  of  the  Bengali  ? ' 

As  Khoda  Dad  Khan  went  down  the  hill  he  was 
delayed  by  an  interview  with  a  hard  -  pressed  tribes- 
man, which  caused  him  to  return  hastily  for  some- 
thing he  had  forgotten.  Then,  handing  himself  over 
to  the  two  troopers  who  had  been  chasing  his  friend, 
he  claimed  escort  to  Tallautire  Sahib,  then  wit  Is 
Bullows  at  Jumala.  The  Border  was  safe,  and  tin- 
time  for  reasons  in  writing  had  begun. 

'Thank  Heaven!'  said  Bullows,  'that  the  troubl- 
came  at  once.  Of  course  we  can  never  put  down  the 
reason  in  black  and  white,  but  all  India  will  under- 
stand. And  it  is  better  to  have  a  sharp  short  out- 
break than  five  years  of  impotent  administration  inside 
the  Border.  It  costs  less.  Grish  Chunder  De  has 
reported  himself  sick,  and  has  been  transferred  to  his 


THE  HEAD   OF  THE  DISTRICT  209 

own  province  without  any  sort  of  reprimand.  He 
was  strong  on  not  having  taken  over  the  district.' 

'Of  course/ said  Tallantire  bitterly.  'Well,  what  am 
I  supposed  to  have  done  that  was  wrong?' 

'  Oh,  you  will  be  told  that  you  exceeded  all  your 
powers,  and  should  have  reported,  and  written,  and 
advised  for  three  weeks  until  the  Khusru  Kheyl  could 
really  come  down  in  force.  But  I  don't  think  the 
authorities  will  dare  to  make  a  fuss  about  it.  They've 
had  their  lesson.  Have  you  seen  Curbar's  version  of 
the  affair  ?  He  can't  write  a  report,  but  he  can  speak 
the  truth.' 

'  What's  the  use  of  the  truth  ?  He'd  much  better 
tear  up  the  report.  I'm  sick  and  heartbroken  over 
it  all.  It  was  so  utterly  unnecessary — except  in  that 
it  rid  us  of  that  Babu.' 

Entered  unabashed  Khoda  Dad  Khan,  a  stuffed 
forage-net  in  his  hand,  and  the  troopers  behind  him. 

'May  you  never  be  tired!'  said  he  cheerily.  'Well, 
Sahibs,  that  was  a  good  fight,  and  Xaim  Shah's  mother  is 
in  debt  to  you,  Tallantire  Sahib.  A  clean  cut,  they  tell 
me,  through  jaw,  wadded  coat,  and  deep  into  the  collar- 
bone. Well  done  !  But  I  speak  for  the  tribe.  There 
has  been  a  fault — a  great  fault.  Thou  knowest  that  I 
and  mine,  Tallantire  Sahib,  kept  the  oath  we  sware 
to  Orde  Sahib  on  the  banks  of  the  Indus.' 

'As  an  Afghan  keeps  his  knife — sharp  on  one  side, 
blunt  on  the  other,'  said  Tallantire. 

'The  better  swing  in  the  blow,  then.  But  I  speak 
God's  truth.  Only  the  Blind  Mullah  carried  the  young 
men  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  and  said  that  there  was  no 
more  Border-law  because  a  Bengali  had  been  sent,  and  we 
need  not  fear  the  English  at  all.  So  they  came  down  to 
avenge  that  insult  and  get  plunder.  Ye  know  what  be- 


210  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

fell,  and  how  far  I  helped.  Now  five  score  of  us  are  dead 
or  wounded,  and  we  are  all  shamed  and  sorry,  and  desire 
no  further  war.  Moreover,  that  ye  may  better  listen  to 
us,  we  have  taken  off  the  head  of  the  Blind  Mullah, 
whose  evil  counsels  have  led  us  to  folly.  I  bring  it  for 
proof/ — and  he  heaved  on  the  floor  the  head.  'He  will 
give  no  more  trouble,  for  1  am  chief  now,  and  so  I  sit  in 
a  higher  place  at  all  audiences.  Yet  there  is  an  offset  to 
this  head.  That  was  another  fault.  One  of  the  men 
found  that  black  Bengali  beast,  through  whom  this 
trouble  arose,  wandering  on  horseback  and  weeping. 
Reflecting  that  he  had  caused  loss  of  much  good  life, 
Alia  Dad  Khan,  whom,  if  you  choose,  I  will  to-morrow 
shoot,  whipped  off  this  head,  and  I  bring  it  to  you 
to  cover  your  shame,  that  ye  may  bury  it.  See,  no  man 
kept  the  spectacles,  though  they  were  of  gold.' 

Slowly  rolled  to  Tallantire's  feet  the  crop-haired  head 
of  a  spectacled  Bengali  gentleman,  open-eyed,  open- 
mouthed — the  head  of  Terror  incarnate.  Bullows  bent 
down.  '  Yet  another  blood-fine  and  a  heavy  one,  Khoda 
Dad  Khan,  for  this  is  the  head  of  Debendra  Nath,  the 
man's  brother.  The  Babu  is  safe  long  since.  All  but  the 
fools  of  the  Khusru  Kheyl  know  that.' 

'  Well,  I  care  not  for  carrion.  Quick  meat  for  me. 
The  thing  was  under  our  hills  asking  the  road  to 
Jumala  and  Alia  Dad  Khan  showed  him  the  road  to 
Jehannum,  being,  as  thou  sayest,  but  a  fool.  Remains 
now  what  the  Government  Avill  do  to  us.  As  to  the 
blockade ' 

'Who  art  thou,  seller  of  dog's  flesh,'  thundered  Tallan- 
tire,  '  to  speak  of  terms  and  treaties  ?  Get  hence  to  the 
hills— go,  and  wait  there  starving,  till  it  shall  please  the 
Government  to  call  thy  people  out  for  punishment — 
children  and  fools  that  ye  be!  Count  your  dead,  and  be 


THE   HEAD   OF  THE   DISTRICT  211 

still.  Rest  assured  that  the  Government  will  send  you  a 
man  ! ' 

' Ay/  returned  Khoda  Dad  Khan,  'for  we  also  be 
men.' 

As  he  looked  Tallantire  between  the  eyes,  he  added, 
*  And  by  God,  Sahib,  may  thou  be  that  man  ! ' 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF   CLERGY 


Before  my  Spring  I  garnered  Autumn's  gain, 
Out  of  her  time  my  Ik-Id  was  white  witli  grain, 

The  year  gave  up  her  secrets  to  my  woe. 
Forced  and  deflowered  each  sick  season  lay, 
In  mystery  of  increase-  and  decay  ; 
I  saw  the  sunset  ere  men  saw  the  day, 

Who  am  too  wise  in  that  I  should  not  know. 

Bitter  Waters. 


'BUT  if  it  be  a  girl?* 

*  Lord  of  my  life,  it  cannot  be.  I  have  prayed  for 
so  many  nights,  and  sent  gifts  to  Sheikh  Badl's  shrine  so 
often,  that  I  know  God  will  give  ns  a  son — a  man-child 
that  shall  grow  into  a  man.  Think  of  this  and  be  glad. 
My  mother  shall  be  his  mother  till  I  can  take  him  again, 
and  the  mullah  of  the  Pattau  mosque  shall  cast  his 
nativity — Godsend  he  be  born  in  an  auspicious  hour!  — 
and  then,  and  then  thou  wilt  never  weary  of  me,  thy  slave.' 
'  Since  when  hast  thou  been  a  slave,  my  queen  ? ' 
'Since  the  beginning — till  this  mercy  came  to  me. 
How  could  I  be  sure  of  thy  love  when  I  knew  that  I  had 
been  bought  with  silver?' 

'Nay,  that  was  the  dowry.     I  paid  it  to  thy  mother.' 
'And  she  has  buried  it,  and  sits  upon  it  all  daylong 
like  a  hen.     What  talk  is  yours  of  dower  !     I  was  bought 
as  though  I  had  been  a  Lucknow  dancing-girl  instead  of  a 
child.' 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  213 

1  Art  thou  sorry  for  the  sale  ? ' 

'  I  have  sorrowed  ;  but  to-day  I  am  glad.  Thou  wilt 
never  cease  to  love  me  now? — answer,  my  king.' 

'  Never — never.     No.' 

'  Not  even  though  the  mem-log — the  white  women  of 
thy  own  blood — love  thee  ?  And  remember,  I  have 
watched  them  driving  in  the  evening ;  they  are  very  fair.' 

'I  have  seen  fire-balloons  by  the  hundred.  I  have 
seen  the  moon,  and — then  I  saw  no  more  fire-balloons.' 

Ameera  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed.  *  Very  good 
talk,'  she  said.  Then  with  an  assumption  of  great  state- 
liness,  '  It  is  enough.  Thou  hast  my  permission  to  depart, 
— if  thou  wilt.' 

The  man  did  not  move.  He  was  sitting  on  a  low 
red-lacquered  couch  in  a  room  furnished  only  with  a 
blue  and  white  floor-cloth,  some  rugs,  and  a  very  complete 
collection  of  native  cushions.  At  his  feet  sat  a  woman 
of  sixteen,  and  she  was  all  but  all  the  world  in  his  eyes. 
By  every  rule  and  law  she  should  have  been  otherwise, 
for  he  was  an  Englishman,  and  she  a  Mussulman's 
daughter  bought  two  years  before  from  her  mother,  who, 
being  left  without  money,  would  have  sold  Ameera 
shrieking  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness  if  the  price  had  been 
sufficient. 

It  was  a  contract  entered  into  with  a  light  heart; 
but  even  before  the  girl  had  reached  her  bloom  she 
came  to  fill  the  greater  portion  of  John  Ilolden's  life. 
For  her,  and  the  withered  hag  her  mother,  he  had  taken 
a  little  house  overlooking  the  great  red-walled  city,  and 
found, — when  the  marigolds  had  sprung  up  by  the  well 
in  the  courtyard  and  Ameera  had  established  herself 
according  to  her  own  idea?  of  comfort,  and  her  mother 
had  ceased  grumbling  at  the  inadequacy  of  the  cooking- 
places,  the  distance  from  the  daily  market,  and  at  matters 


214  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

of  house-keeping  in  general, — that  the  house  was  to  him 
his  home.  Any  one  could  enter  his  bachelor's  bungalow 
by  day  or  night,  and  the  life  that  he  led  there  was  an 
unlovely  one.  In  the  house  in  the  city  his  feet  only 
could  pass  beyond  the  outer  courtyard  to  the  women's 
rooms  ;  and  when  the  big  wooden  gate  was  bolted  behind 
him  he  was  king  in  his  own  territory,  with  Ameera  for 
queen.  And  there  was  going  to  be  added  to  this  king- 
dom a  third  person  whose  arrival  Holden  felt  inclined  to 
resent.  It  interfered  with  his  perfect  happiness.  It 
disarranged  the  orderly  peace  of  the  house  that  was  his 
own.  But  Ameera  was  wild  with  delight  at  the  thought 
of  it,  and  her  mother  not  less  so.  The  love  of  a  man,  and 
particularly  a  white  man,  was  at  the  best  an  inconstant 
affair,  but  it  might,  both  women  argued,  be  held  fast  by 
a  baby's  hands.  'And  then,'  Ameera  would  always  say, 
'then  he  will  never  care  for  the  white  mem-log.  1  hate 
them  all — I  hate  them  all.' 

'He  will  go  back  to  his  own  people  in  time/  said 
the  mother  ;  '  but  by  the  blessing  of  God  that  time  is  yet 
afar  off.' 

Holden  sat  silent  on  the  couch  thinking  of  the  future, 
and  his  thoughts  were  not  pleasant.  The  drawbacks  of 
a  double  life  are  manifold.  The  Government,  with 
singular  care,  had  ordered  him  out  of  the  station  for  a 
fortnight  on  special  duty  in  the  place  of  a  man  who  was 
watching  by  the  bedside  of  a  sick  wife.  The  verbal 
notification  of  the  transfer  had  been  edged  by  a  cheerful 
remark  that  Holden  ought  to  think  himself  lucky  in  being 
a  bachelor  and  a  free  man.  He  came  to  break  the  news  to 
Ameera. 

'It  is  not  good,'  she  said  slowly,  'but  it  is  not  all 
bad.  There  is  my  mother  here,  and  no  harm  will  come 
to  me — unless  indeed  I  die  of  pure  joy.  Go  thou  to 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  215 

thy  work  and  think  no  troublesome  thoughts.  When  the 
days  are  done  I  believe  .  .  .  nay,  I  am  sure.  And — and 
then  I  shall  lay  him  in  thy  arms,  and  thou  wilt  love 
me  for  ever.  The  train  goes  to-night,  at  midnight  is  it 
not?  Go  now,  and  do  not  let  thy  heart  be  heavy  by 
cause  of  me.  But  thou  wilt  not  delay  in  returning? 
Thou  wilt  not  stay  on  the  road  to  talk  to  the  bold  white 
mem-log.  Come  back  to  me  swiftly,  my  life.' 

As  he  left  the  courtyard  to  reach  his  horse  that  was 
tethered  to  the  gate-post,  Holden  spoke  to  the  white- 
haired  old  watchman  who  guarded  the  house,  and  bade 
him  under  certain  contingencies  despatch  the  filled-up 
telegraph-form  that  Holden  gave  him.  It  was  all  that 
could  be  done,  and  with  the  sensations  of  a  man  who 
has  attended  his  own  funeral  Holden  went  away  by  the 
night  mail  to  his  exile.  Every  hour  of  the  day  he 
dreaded  the  arrival  of  the  telegram,  and  every  hour  of 
the  night  he  pictured  to  himself  the  death  of  Ameera. 
In  consequence  his  work  for  the  State  was  not  of  first- 
rate  quality,  nor  was  his  temper  towards  his  colleagues 
of  the  most  amiable.  The  fortnight  ended  without  a 
sign  from  his  home,  and,  torn  to  pieces  by  his  anxieties, 
Holden  returned  to  be  swallowed  up  for  two  precious 
hours  by  a  dinner  at  the  club,  wherein  he  heard,  as  a 
man  hears  in  a  swoon,  voices  telling  him  how  execrably 
he  had  performed  the  other  man's  duties,  and  how  he 
had  endeared  himself  to  all  his  associates.  Then  he  fled 
on  horseback  through  the  night  with  his  heart  in  his 
mouth.  There  was  no  answer  at  first  to  his  blows  on 
the  gate,  and  he  had  just  wheeled  his  horse  round  to 
kick  it  in  when  Pir  Khan  appeared  with  a  lantern  and 
held  his  stirrup. 

'Has  aught  occurred?'  said  Holden. 

'The  news  does  not  come  from  my  mouth,  Protector 


216  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

of  the  Poor,  but—  He  held  out  his  shaking  hand 
as  befitted  the  bearer  of  good  news  who  is  entitled  to  a 
reward. 

Holden  hurried  through  the  courtyard.  A  light  burned 
in  the  upper  room.  His  horse  neighed  in  the  gateway, 
and  he  heard  a  shrill  little  wail  that  sent  all  the  blood  into 
the  apple  of  his  throat.  It  was  a  new  voice,  but  it  did  not 
prove  that  Ameera  was  alive. 

'  Who  is  there  ? '  he  called  up  the  narrow  brick  stair- 
case. 

There  was  a  cry  of  delight  from  Ameera,  and  then 
the  voice  of  the  mother,  tremulous  with  old  age  and 
pride — 'We  be  two  women  and — the— man — thy — son.' 

On  the  threshold  of  the  room  Holden  stepped  on  a 
naked  dagger,  that  was  laid  there  to  avert  ill-luck,  and  it 
broke  at  the  hilt  under  his  impatient  heel. 

'God  is  great!'  cooed  Ameera  in  the  half-light. 
'Thou  hast  taken  his  misfortunes  on  thy  head/ 

'Ay,  but  how  is  it  with  thee,  life  of  my  life?  Old 
woman,  how  is  it  with  her  ?' 

'She  has  forgotten  her  sufferings  for  joy  that  the  child 
is  born.  There  is  no  harm;  but  speak  softly,'  said  the 
mother. 

'It  only  needed  thy  presence  to  make  me  all  well,' 
said  Ameera.  'My  king,  thou  hast  been  very  long  away. 
What  gifts  hast  thou  for  me?  Ah,  ah!  It  is  I  that 
bring  gifts  this  time.  Look,  my  life,  look.  Was  there 
ever  such  a  babe?  Nay,  I  am  too  weak  even  to  clear 
my  arm  from  him.' 

'  Rest  then,  and  do  not  talk.  I  am  here,  bachari  [little 
woman].' 

'Well  said,  for  there  is  a  bond  and  a  heel-rope 
[peecfiaree]  between  us  now  that  nothing  can  break. 
Look — canst  thou  see  in  this  light?  He  is  without  spot 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  21? 

or  blemish.  Never  was  such  a  man-child.  Ya  illali ! 
he  shall  be  a  pundit — no,  a  trooper  of  the  Queen.  And, 
my  life,  dost  thou  love  me  as  well  as  ever,  though  I  am 
faint  and  sick  and  worn?  Answer  truly.' 

'  Yea.  I  love  as  I  have  loved,  with  all  my  soul.  Lie 
still,  pearl,  and  rest.' 

'  Then  do  not  go.  Sit  by  my  side  here — so.  Mother, 
the  lord  of  this  house  needs  a  cushion.  Bring  it.'  There 
was  an  almost  imperceptible  movement  on  the  part  of 
the  new  life  that  lay  in  the  hollow  of  Ameera's  arm. 
'Aho!'  she  said,  her  voice  breaking  with  love.  'The 
babe  is  a  champion  from  his  birth.  He  is  kicking  me 
in  the  side  with  mighty  kicks.  Was  there  ever  such  a 
babe!  And  he  is  ours  to  us — thine  and  mine.  Put 
thy  hand  on  his  head,  but  carefully,  for  he  is  very  young, 
and  men  are  unskilled  in  such  matters.' 

Very  cautiously  Holden  touched  with  the  tips  of  his 
fingers  the  downy  head. 

'He  is  of  the  faith,'  said  Ameera;  'for  lying  here 
in  the  night-watches  I  whispered  the  call  to  prayer  and 
the  profession  of  faith  into  his  ears.  And  it  is  most 
marvellous  that  he  was  born  upon  a  Friday,  as  I  was 
born.  Be  careful  of  him,  my  life  ;  but  he  can  almost 
grip  with  his  hands.' 

Holden  found  one  helpless  little  hand  that  closed 
feebly  on  his  finger.  And  the  clutch  ran  through  his 
body  till  it  settled  about  his  heart.  Till  then  his  sole 
thought  had  been  for  Ameera.  He  began  to  realise 
that  there  was  some  one  else  in  the  world,  but  lie  could 
not  feel  that  it  was  a  veritable  son  with  a  soul.  lie 
sat  down  to  think,  and  Ameera  dozed  lightly. 

'Get  hence,  sahib,'  said  her  mother  under  her  breath. 
'It  is  not  good  that  she  should  find  you  here  on  waking. 
She  must  be  still.' 


218  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'I  go,'  said  Holden  submissively.  'Here  be  rupees. 
See  tlmt  my  bttba  gets  f;it  and  finds  all  that  lie  needs.' 

The  chink  of  the  silver  roused  Ameera.  'I  am  his 
mother,  and  no  hireling,'  she  said  weakly.  '  Shall  I  look 
to  him  more  or  less  for  the  sake  of  money  ?  Mother, 
give  it  back.  I  have  born  my  lord  a  son.' 

The  deep  sleep  of  weakness  came  upon  her  almost 
before  the  sentence  was  completed.  Hold  en  went  down 
to  the  courtyard  very  softly  with  his  heart  at  ease.  Pir 
Khan,  the  old  watchman,  was  chuckling  with  delight. 
'This  house  is  now  complete,'  he  said,  and  without  further 
comment  thrust  into  Holden's  hands  the  hilt  of  a  sabre 
worn  many  years  ago  when  he,  Pir  Khan,  served  the 
Queen  in  the  police.  The  bleat  of  a  tethered  goat  came 
from  the  well-kerb. 

'There  be  two,'  said  Pir  Khan,  'two  goats  of  the  best. 
I  bought  them,  and  they  cost  much  money;  and  since  there 
is  no  birth-party  assembled  their  flesh  will  be  all  mine. 
Strike  craftily,  sahib  !  'Tis  an  ill-balanced  sabre  at  the 
best.  Wait  till  they  raise  their  heads  from  cropping  the 
marigolds.' 

'And  why?'  said  Holden,  bewildered. 

'For  the  birth-sacrifice.  What  else?  Otherwise  the 
child  being  unguarded  from  fate  may  die.  The  Protector 
of  the  Poor  knows  the  fitting  words  to  be  said.' 

Holden  had  learned  them  once  with  little  thought  that 
he  would  ever  speak  them  in  earnest.  The  touch  of  the 
cold  sabre-hilt  in  his  palrn  turned  suddenly  to  the  clinging 
grip  of  the  child  up- stairs — the  child  that  was  his  own 
son — and  a  dread  of  loss  filled  him. 

'Strike!'  said  Pir  Khan.  'Never  life  came  into  the 
world  but  life  was  paid  for  it.  See,  the  goats  have  raised 
their  heads.  Now  !  With  a  drawing  cut ! ' 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did  Holden  cut  twice  as  he 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  219 

muttered  the  Mahomedan  prayer  that  runs:  '  Almighty  ! 
In  place  of  this  my  son  I  offer  life  for  life,  blood  for  blood, 
head  for  head,  bone  for  bone,  hair  for  hair,  skin  for  skin.' 
The  waiting  horse  snorted  and  bounded  in  his  pickets  at 
the  smell  of  the  raw  blood  that  spirted  over  Holdeii's 
riding-boots. 

'  Well  smitten! '  said  Pir  Khan,  wiping  the  sabre.  '  A 
swordsman  was  lost  in  thee.  Go  with  a  light  heart, 
Heaven-born.  I  am  thy  servant,  and  the  servant  of  thy 
son.  May  the  Presence  live  a  thousand  years  and  .  .  . 
the  flesh  of  the  goats  is  all  mine  ? '  Pir  Khan  drew  back 
richer  by  a  month's  pay.  Holden  swung  himself  into  the 
saddle  and  rode  off  through  the  low-hanging  wood-smoke 
of  the  evening.  He  was  full  of  riotous  exultation,  alter- 
nating with  a  vast  vague  tenderness  directed  towards  no 
particular  object,  that  made  him  choke  as  he  bent  over 
the  neck  of  his  uneasy  horse.  '  I  never  felt  like  this 
in  my  life/  he  thought.  '  I'll  go  to  the  club  and  pull 
myself  together.' 

A  game  of  pool  was  beginning,  and  the  room  was  full 
of  men.  Holden  entered,  eager  to  get  to  the  light  and  the 
company  of  his  fellows,  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice — 

In  Baltimore  u-walking,  a  lady  I  did  meet  ! 

'Did  you?'  said  the  club-secretary  from  his  corner. 
'  Did  she  happen  to  tell  you  that  your  boots  were  wringing 
wet  ?  Great  goodness,  man,  it's  blood ! ' 

'Bosh!'  said  Holden,  picking  his  cue  from  the  rack. 
'  May  I  cut  in  ?  It's  dew.  I've  been  riding  through  high 
crops.  My  faith!  my  boots  are  in  a  mess  though! 

'  And  if  it  be  a  girl  she  shall  wear  a  wedding-ring, 
And  if  it  be  a  boy  he  shall  tight  for  his  king. 
With  his  dirk,  and  his  cap,  and  his  little  jacket  blue, 
He  shall  walk  the  quarter -dc<  k— ' 


220  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  Yellow  on  blue — green  next  player,' said  the  marker 
monotonously. 

' Jle  ahdll  walk  the  quarter-deck, — Am  I  green,  marker? 
Ife  shall  walk  the  quarter-deck, —  eh!  that's  a  bad  shot, — 
An  his  daddy  used  to  do  !  ' 

'  I  don't  see  that  you  have  anything  to  crow  about,' 
said  a  zealous  junior  civilian  acidly.  '  The  Government 
is  not  exactly  pleased  with  your  work  when  you  relieved 
Sanders.' 

'Does  that  mean  a  wigging  from  headquarters?'  said 
Holden  with  an  abstracted  smile.  '  I  think  I  can  stand 
it.' 

The  talk  beat  up  round  the  ever-fresh  subject  of  each 
man's  work,  and  steadied  Holden  till  it  was  time  to  go 
to  his  dark  empty  bungalow,  where  his  butler  received 
him  as  one  who  knew  all  his  affairs.  Holden  remained 
awake  for  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and  his  dreams 
were  pleasant  ones. 

H 

'  How  old  is  he  now  ? ' 

'  Ya  illah  !  What  a  man's  question !  He  is  all  but 
six  weeks  old;  and  on  this  night  I  go  up  to  the  house- 
top with  thee,  my  life,  to  count  the  stars.  For  that  is 
auspicious.  And  he  was  born  on  a  Friday  under  the  sign 
of  the  Sun,  and  it  has  been  told  to  me  that  he  will  outlive 
•is  both  and  get  wealth.  Can  we  wish  for  aught  better, 
beloved  ?  ' 

'  There  is  nothing  better.  Let  us  go  up  to  the  roof, 
and  thou  shalt  count  the  stars — but  a  few  only,  for  the 
sky  is  heavy  with  cloud.' 

'  The  winter  rains  are  late,  and  maybe  they  come  out 
of  season.  Come,  before  all  the  stars  are  hid.  I  have 
put  on  my  richest  jewels.' 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  221 

'  Thou  hast  forgotten  the  best  of  all.' 

'Aif  Ours.  He  comes  also.  He  has  never  yet  seen 
the  skies.' 

Ameera  climbed  the  narrow  staircase  that  led  to  the 
flat  roof.  The  child,  placid  and  unwinking,  lay  in  the 
hollow  of  her  right  arm,  gorgeous  in  silver-fringed  muslin 
with  a  small  skull-cap  on  his  head.  Ameera  wore  all 
that  she  valued  most.  The  diamond  nose-stud  that  takes 
the  place  of  the  Western  patch  in  drawing  attention  to 
the  curve  of  the  nostril,  the  gold  ornament  in  the  centre 
of  the  forehead  studded  with  tallow-drop  emeralds  and 
flawed  rubies,  the  heavy  circlet  of  beaten  gold  that  was 
fastened  round  her  neck  by  the  softness  of  the  pure  metal, 
and  the  chinking  curb-patterned  silver  anklets  hanging  low 
over  the  rosy  ankle-bone.  She  was  dressed  in  jade-green 
muslin  as  befitted  a  daughter  of  the  Faith,  and  from 
shoulder  to  elbow  and  elbow  to  wrist  ran  bracelets  of 
silver  tied  with  floss  silk,  frail  glass  bangles  slipped  over 
the  wrist  in  proof  of  the  slenderness  of  the  hand,  and 
certain  heavy  gold  bracelets  that  had  no  part  in  her 
country's  ornaments  but,  since  they  were  Holden's  gift 
and  fastened  with  a  cunning  European  snap,  delighted  her 
immensely. 

They  sat  down  by  the  low  white  parapet  of  the  roof, 
overlooking  the  city  and  its  lights. 

'They  are  happy  down  there,'  said  Ameera.  '  But  T  do 
not  think  that  they  are  as  happy  as  we.  Xor  do  I  think 
the  white  mem-log  are  as  happy.  And  thou  ?  ' 

'I  know  they  are  not.' 

*  How  dost  thou  know?  ' 

'  They  give  their  children  over  to  the  nurses.' 

'I  have  never, seen  that,'  said  Ameera  with  a  sigh, 
'nor  do  I  wish  to  see.  Alii!' — she  dropped  her  head  on 
Holden's  shoulder, — 'I  have  counted  forty  stars,  and  I  am 


222  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

tiri'il.  Look  at  the  child,  love  of  my  life,  he  is  counting 
too.' 

The  baby  was  staring  with  round  eyes  at  the  dark  of 
the  heavens.  Ameera  placed  him  in  Holden's  arms,  and 
lie  lay  there  without  a  cry. 

'What  shall  we  call  him  among  ourselves?'  she  said. 
'Look!  Art  thou  ever  tired  of  looking?  He  carries  thy 
very  eyes.  But  the  mouth ' 

'  Is  thine,  most  dear.  Who  should  know  better 
than  I?' 

'  'Tis  such  a  feeble  mouth.  Oh,  so  small !  And  yet  it 
holds  my  heart  between  its  lips.  Give  him  to  me  now. 
lie  has  been  too  long  away.' 

*  Nay,  let  him  lie  ;  he  has  not  yet  begun  to  cry.' 

*  When  he  cries  thou  wilt  give  him  back — eh  ?     What 
a  man  of  mankind  thou  art !     If  he  cried  he  were  only 
the  dearer  to  me.     But,  my  life,  what  little  name  shall 
we  give  him  ?' 

The  small  body  lay  close  to  Ilolden's  heart.  It  was 
utterly  helpless  and  very  soft.  He  scarcely  dared  to 
breathe  for  fear  of  crushing  it.  The  caged  green  parrot 
that  is  regarded  as  a  sort  of  guardian-spirit  in  most  native 
households  moved  on  its  perch  and  fluttered  a  drowsy 
wing. 

'  There  is  the  answer,'  said  Holden.  '  Mian  Mittu  has 
spoken.  He  shall  be  the  parrot.  When  he  is  ready  he 
will  talk  mightily  and  run  about.  Mian  Mittu  is  the 
parrot  in  thy — in  the  Mussulman  tongue,  is  it  not  ?' 

'Why  put  me  so  far  off?'  said  Ameera  fretfully. 
'Let  it  be  like  unto  some  English  name — but  not  wholly. 
For  he  is  mine.' 

'Then  call  him  Tota,  for  that  is  likest  English.' 

'  Ay,  Tota,  and  that  is  still  the  parrot.  Forgive  me, 
my  lord,  for  a  minute  ago,  but  in  truth  he  is  too  little  to 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY 

wear  all  the  weight  of  Mian  Mittu  for  name.  He  shall 
be  Tota — our  Tota  to  us.  Hearest  thou,  0  small  one? 
Littlest,  thou  art  Tota.'  She  touched  the  child's  cheek, 
{iiid  he  waking  wailed,  and  it  was  necessary  to  return  him 
to  his  mother,  who  soothed  him  with  the  wonderful  rhyme 
of  Are  koko,  Jure  koko!  which  says: 

Oh  crow!     Go  crow!     Baby's  sleeping  souud, 

And  the  wild  plums  grow  in  the  jungle,  only  a  penny  a  pound. 

Only  a  penny  a  pound,  baba,  only  a  penny  a  pound. 

Reassured  many  times  as  to  the  price  of  those  plums, 
Tota  cuddled  himself  down  to  sleep.  The  two  sleek, 
white  well-bullocks  in  the  courtyard  were  steadily  chewing 
the  cud  of  their  evening  meal ;  old  Pir  Khan  squatted  at 
the  head  of  Holdeu's  horse,  his  police  sabre  across  his 
knees,  pulling  drowsily  at  a  big  water-pipe  that  croaked 
like  a  bull-frog  in  a  pond.  Ameera's  mother  sat  spinning 
in  the  lower  verandah,  and  the  wooden  gate  was  shut  and 
barred.  The  music  of  a  marriage  procession  came  to  the 
roof  above  the  gentle  hum  of  the  city,  and  a  string  of 
flying-foxes  crossed  the  face  of  the  low  moon. 

'I  have  prayed,'  said  Ameera  after  a  long  pause,  'I 
have  prayed  for  two  things.  First,  that  I  may  die  in 
thy  stead  if  thy  death  is  demanded,  and  in  the  second 
that  I  may  die  in  the  place  of  the  child.  I  have  prayed 
to  the  Prophet  and  to  Beebee  Miriam  [the  Virgin  Mary]. 
Thinkest  thou  either  will  hear?' 

*  From  thy  lips  who  would  not  hear  the  lightest 
word  ? ' 

'I  asked  for  straight  talk,  and  thou  hast  given  me 
sweet  talk.  Will  my  prayers  be  heard  ?' 

'How  can  I  say?     God  is  very  good.' 

'Of  that  I  am  not  sure.  Listen  now.  When  I  die, 
or  the  child  dies,  what  is  thy  fate?  Living,  thon  wilt 


224  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

return  to  the  bold  white  mem-log,  for  kind  calls  to 
kind.' 

'  Not  always.' 

'With  a  woman,  no;  with  a  man  it  is  otherwise. 
Thou  wilt  in  this  life,  later  on,  go  back  to  thine  own  folk. 
That  1  could  almost  endure,  for  1  should  be  dead. 
But  in  thy  very  death  thou  wilt  be  taken  away  to  a 
strange  place  and  a  paradise  that  I  do  not  know.' 

'Will  it  be  paradise?' 

'  Surely,  for  who  would  harm  thee  ?  But  we  two — 
I  and  the  child — shall  be  elsewhere,  and  we  cannot  come 
to  thee,  nor  canst  thou  come  to  us.  In  the  old  days, 
before  the  child  was  born,  I  did  not  think  of  those  things  ; 
but  now  I  think  of  them  always.  It  is  very  hard  talk.' 

'It  will  fall  as  it  will  fall.  To-morrow  we  do  not 
know,  but  to-day  and  love  we  know  well.  Surely  we  are 
happy  now.' 

'So  happy  that  it  were  well  to  make  our  happiness 
assured.  And  thy  Beebee  Miriam  should  listen  to  me  ; 
for  she  is  also  a  woman.  But  then  she  would  envy  me  ! 
It  is  not  seemly  for  men  to  worship  a  woman.' 

Holden  laughed  aloud  at  Ameera's  little  spasm  of 
jealousy. 

'  Is  it  not  seemly  ?  Why  didst  thou  not  turn  me  from 
worship  of  thee,  then  ?' 

'Thou  a  worshipper  !  And  of  me?  My  king,  for  all 
thy  sweet  words,  well  I  know  that  I  am  thy  servant  and 
thy  slave,  and  the  dust  under  thy  feet.  And  I  would 
not  have  it  otherwise.  See  ! ' 

Before  Holden  could  prevent  her  she  stooped  forward 
and  touched  his  feet:  recovering  herself  with  a  little 
laugh  she  hugged  Tota  closer  to  her  bosom.  Then,  almost 
savagely — 

'Is  it  true  that  the  bold  white  mem-log  live  for  three 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  225 

times  the  length  of  my  life  ?  Is  it  true  that  they  make 
their  marriages  not  before  they  are  oid  women  ? ' 

'They  marry  as  do  others — when  they  are  women.' 

'  That  I  know,  but  they  wed  when  they  are  twenty-five. 
Is  that  true?' 

'That  is  true.' 

'  Ya  illah  !  At  twenty-five  !  Who  would  of  his  own 
will  take  a  wife  even  of  eighteen?  She  is  a  woman — 
aging  every  hour.  Twenty-five  !  I  shall  be  an  old 

woman  at  that  age,  and Those  mem-log  remain 

young  for  ever.  How  I  hate  them  !' 

'  What  have  they  to  do  with  us  ? ' 

'I  cannot  tell.  I  know  only  that  there  may  now 
be  alive  on  this  earth  a  woman  ten  years  older  than  1 
who  may  come  to  thee  and  take  thy  love  ten  years  after 
I  am  an  old  woman,  gray-headed,  and  the  nurse  of 
Tota's  son.  That  is  unjust  and  evil.  They  should  die 
too.' 

'Now,  for  all  thy  years  thou  art  a  child,  and  shalt  be 
picked  up  and  carried  down  the  staircase.' 

'  Tota  !  Have  a  care  for  Tota,  my  lord  !  Thou  at 
least  art  as  foolish  as  any  babe  ! '  Ameera  tucked  Tota 
out  of  harm's  way  in  the  hollow  of  her  neck,  and  was 
carried  downstairs  laughing  in  Holden's  arms,  while  Tota 
opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  after  the  manner  of  the  lesser 
angels. 

He  was  a  silent  infant,  and,  almost  before  Holden 
could  realise  that  he  was  in  the  world,  developed  into  a 
small  gold-coloured  little  god  and  unquestioned  despot  of 
the  house  overlooking  the  city.  Those  were  months  of 
absolute  happiness  to  Holden  and  Ameera — happiness 
withdrawn  from  the  world,  shut  in  behind  the  wooden 
gate  that  Pir  Khan  guarded.  By  day  Holden  did  his 
work  with  an  immense  pity  for  such  as  were  not  so  for- 


226  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

tuuato  as  himself,  and  a  sympathy  for  small  children  that 
amazed  and  amused  many  mothers  at  the  little  station- 
gatherings.  At  nightfall  he  returned  to  Ameera, — 
Anieera,  full  of  the  wondrous  doings  of  Tota  ;  how  he  had 
been  seen  to  clap  his  hands  together  and  move  his  fingers 
with  intention  and  purpose — which  was  manifestly  a 
miracle — how  later,  he  had  of  his  own  initiative  crawled 
out  of  his  low  bedstead  on  to  the  floor  and  swayed  on  both 
feet  for  the  space  of  three  breaths. 

'  And  they  were  long  breaths,  for  my  heart  stood  still 
with  delight,'  said  Ameera. 

Then  Tota  took  the  beasts  into  his  councils — the  well- 
bullocks,  the  little  gray  squirrels,  the  mongoose  that  lived 
in  a  hole  near  the  well,  and  especially  Mian  Mittu,  the 
parrot,  whose  tail  he  grievously  pulled,  and  Mian  Mittu 
screamed  till  Ameera  and  Holden  arrived. 

'0  villain  !  Child  of  strength  !  This  to  thy  brother 
on  the  house-top  !  Tulmh,  fobah !  Fie !  Fie  !  But  I 
know  a  charm  to  make  him  wise  as  Suleiman  and 
Aflatoun  [Solomon  and  Plato].  Now  look,'  said  Ameera. 
She  drew  from  an  embroidered  bag  a  handful  of  almonds. 
'  See  !  we  count  seven.  In  the  name  of  God  ! ' 

She  placed  Mian  Mittu,  very  angry  and  rumpled,  on 
the  top  of  his  cage,  and  seating  herself  between  the  babe 
and  the  bird  she  cracked  and  peeled  an  almond  less  white 
than  her  teeth.  'This  is  a  true  charm,  my  life,  and  do 
not  laugh.  See  !  I  give  the  parrot  one  half  and  Tota  the 
other.'  Mian  Mittu  with  careful  beak  took  his  share 
from  between  Anieera 's  lips,  and  she  kissed  the  other  half 
into  the  mouth  of  the  child,  who  ate  it  slowly  with 
wondering  eyes.  '  This  I  will  do  each  day  of  seven,  and 
without  doubt  he  who  is  ours  will  be  a  bold  speaker  and 
wise.  Eh,  Tota,  what  wilt  thou  be  when  thou  art  a  man 
and  I  am  gray-headed?'  Tota  tucked  his  fat  legs  into 


WITHOUT   BENEFIT   OF  CLERGY  227 

adorable  creases.  He  could  crawl,  but  he  was  not  going 
to  waste  the  spring  of  his  youth  in  idle  speech.  He 
wanted  Mian  Mittu's  tail  to  tweak. 

When  he  was  advanced  to  the  dignity  of  a  silver  belt 
—which,  with  a  magic  square  engraved  on  silver  and 
hung  round  his  neck,  made  up  the  greater  part  of  his 
clothing — he  staggered  on  a  perilous  journey  down  the 
garden  to  Pir  Khan  and  proffered  him  all  his  jewels  in 
exchange  for  one  little  ride  on  Holden's  horse,  having 
seen  his  mother's  mother  chaffering  with  pedlars  in  the 
verandah.  Pir  Khan  wept  and  set  the  untried  feet  on 
his  own  gray  head  in  sign  of  fealty,  and  brought  the 
bold  adventurer  to  his  mother's  arms,  vowing  that  Tota 
would  be  a  leader  of  men  ere  his  beard  was  grown. 

One  hot  evening,  while  he  sat  on  the  roof  between  his 
father  and  mother  watching  the  never-ending  warfare  of 
the  kites  that  the  city  boys  Hew,  he  demanded  a  kite  of 
his  own  with  Pir  Khan  to  fly  it,  because  he  had  a  fear 
of  dealing  with  anything  larger  than  himself,  and  when 
Holden  called  him  a  '  spark,'  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
answered  slowly  in  defence  of  his  new-found  individuality, 
'  Hum'park  naliin  hai.  Hum  admi  hai  [I  am  no  spark, 
but  a  man].' 

The  protest  made  Holden  choke  and  devote  himself 
very  seriously  to  a  consideration  of  Tota's  future.  He 
need  hardly  have  taken  the  trouble.  The  delight  of  that 
life  was  too  perfect  to  endure.  Therefore  it  was  taken 
away  as  many  things  are  taken  away  in  India — suddenly 
and  without  warning.  The  little  lord  of  the  house,  as  Pir 
Khan  called  him,  grew  sorrowful  and  complained  of  pains 
who  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  pain.  Ameera, 
wild  with  terror,  watched  him  through  the  night,  and  in 
the  dawning  of  the  second  day  the  life  was  shaken  out  of 
him  by  fever — the  seasonal  autumn  fever.  It  seemed 


228  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

altogether  impossible  that  he  could  die,  and  neither 
Ameera  nor  Holden  at  first  believed  the  evidence  of  the 
little  body  on  the  bedstead.  Then  Ameera  beat  her  head 
against  the  wall  and  would  have  flung  herself  down  the 
well  in  the  garden  had  Ilolden  not  restrained  her  by 
main  force. 

One  mercy  only  was  granted  to  Holden.  He  rode  to 
his  office  in  broad  daylight  and  found  waiting  him  an 
unusually  heavy  mail  that  demanded  concentrated  atten- 
tion and  hard  work.  He  was  not,  however,  alive  to  this 
kindness  of  the  gods. 

Ill 

The  first  shock  of  a  bullet  is  no  more  than  a  brisk 
pinch.  The  wrecked  body  does  not  send  in  its  protest 
to  the  soul  till  ten  or  fifteen  seconds  later.  Ilolden 
realised  his  pain  slowly,  exactly  as  he  had  realised  his 
happiness,  and  with  the  same  imperious  necessity  for 
hiding  all  trace  of  it.  In  the  beginning  he  only  felt  that 
there  had  been  a  loss,  and  that  Ameera  needed  com- 
forting, where  she  sat  with  her  head  on  her  knees  shivering 
as  Mian  Mittu  from  the  house-top  called,  Tota !  Tola ! 
Tola!  Later  all  his  world  and  the  daily  life  of  it  rose 
up  to  hurt  him.  It  was  an  outrage  that  any  one  of  the 
children  at  the  band-stand  in  the  evening  should  be  alive 
and  clamorous,  when  his  own  child  lay  dead.  It  was 
more  than  mere  pain  when  one  of  them  touched  him,  and 
stories  told  by  over-fond  fathers  of  their  children's  latest 
performances  cut  him  to  the  quick.  He  could  not  declare 
his  pain.  He  had  neither  help,  comfort,  nor  sympathy; 
and  Ameera  at  the  end  of  each  weary  day  would  lead 
him  through  the  hell  of  self-questioning  reproach  which 
is  reserved  for  those  who  have  lost  a  child,  and  believe 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  229 

that  with  a  little — just  a  little — more  care  it  might 
have  been  saved. 

'  Perhaps/  Ameera  would  say,  '  I  did  not  take 
sufficient  heed.  Did  I,  or  did  I  not  ?  The  sun  on  the 
roof  that  day  when  he  played  so  long  alone  and  I  was — 
ahi  !  braiding  my  hair — it  may  be  that  the  sun  then  bred 
the  fever.  If  I  had  warned  him  from  the  sun  he  might 
have  lived.  But,  oh  my  life,  say  that  I  am  guiltless! 
Thou  knowest  that  I  loved  him  as  I  love  thee.  Say 
that  there  is  no  blame  on  me,  or  I  shall  die — I  shall 
die!5 

'  There  is  no  blame, — before  God,  none.  It  was  written 
and  how  could  we  do  aught  to  save  ?  What  has  been,  has 
been.  Let  it  go,  beloved.' 

*  He  was  all  my  heart  to  me.  How  can  I  let  the 
thought  go  when  my  arm  tells  me  every  night  that  he  is 
not  here?  Ahi!  Alii!  0  Tota,  come  back  to  me — 
come  back  again,  and  let  us  be  all  together  as  it  was 
before ! ' 

'  Peace,  peace !  For  thine  own  sake,  and  for  mine  also, 
if  thou  lovest  me — rest.' 

'  By  this  I  know  thou  dost  not  care;  and  how  shouldst 
thou  ?  The  white  men  have  hearts  of  stone  and  souls  of 
iron.  Oh,  that  I  had  married  a  man  of  mine  own  people 
— though  he  beat  me — and  had  never  eaten  the  bread  of 
an  alien ! ' 

'  Am  I  an  alien — mother  of  my  son  ?  ' 

4  What  else — Sahib  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  forgive  me — forgive! 
The  death  has  driven  me  mad.  Thou  art  the  life  of 
my  heart,  and  the  light  of  my  eyes,  and  the  breath  of 
my  life,  and — and  I  have  put  thee  from  me,  though  it 
was  but  for  a  moment.  If  thou  goest  away,  to  whom 
shall  I  look  for  help  ?  Do  not  be  angry.  Indeed,  it 
was  the  pain  that  spoke  and  not  thy  slave.' 


230  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  I  know,  I  know.  We  be  two  who  were  three.  The 
greater  need  therefore  that  we  should  be  one.' 

They  were  sitting  on  the  roof  as  of  custom.  The  night 
was  a  warm  one  in  early  spring,  and  sheet-lightning  was 
dancing  on  the  horizon  to  a  broken  tune  played  by  far-off 
thunder.  Ameera  settled  herself  in  Holden's  arms. 

s  The  dry  earth  is  lowing  like  a  cow  for  the  rain, 
and  I — I  am  afraid.  It  was  not  like  this  when  we 
counted  the  stars.  But  thou  lovest  me  as  much  as 
before,  though  a  bond  is  taken  away?  Answer!' 

'  I  love  more  because  a  new  bond  has  come  out  of 
the  sorrow  that  we  have  eaten  together,  and  that  thou 
knowest.' 

'  Yea,  I  knew/  said  Ameera  in  a  very  small  whisper. 
*  But  it  is  good  to  hear  thee  say  so,  my  life,  who  art  so 
strong  to  help.  I  will  be  a  child  no  more,  but  a  woman 
and  an  aid  to  thee.  Listen!  Give  me  my  sltar  and  I 
will  sing  bravely.' 

She  took  the  light  silver-studded  sifar  and  began 
a  song  of  the  great  hero  Rajah  Rasalu.  The  hand  failed 
on  the  strings,  the  tune  halted,  checked,  and  at  a  low 
note  turned  off  to  the  poor  little  nursery-rhyme  about 
the  wicked  crow — 

'And  the  wild  plums  grow  in  the  jungle,  only  a  penny  a  pound. 
Only  a  penny  a  pound,  baba — only  .  .  . 

Then  came  the  tears,  and  the  piteous  rebellion  against 
fate  till  she  slept,  moaning  a  little  in  her  sleep,  with 
the  right  arm  thrown  clear  of  the  body  as  though  it  pro- 
tected something  that  was  not  there.  It  was  after  this 
night  that  life  became  a  little  easier  for  Holden.  The 
ever-present  pain  of  loss  drove  him  into  his  work,  and 
the  work  repaid  him  by  filling  up  his  mind  for  nine  or 
ten  hours  a  day.  Ameera  sat  alone  in  the  house  and 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  231 

brooded,  but  grew  happier  when  she  understood  that 
Holden  was  more  at  ease,  according  to  the  custom  of 
women.  They  touched  happiness  again,  but  this  time 
with  caution. 

'It  was  because  we  loved  Tota  that  he  died.  The 
jealousy  of  God  was  upon  us/  said  Ameera.  'I  have 
hung  up  a  large  black  jar  before  our  window  to  turn  the 
evil  eye  from  us,  and  we  must  make  no  protestations  of 
delight,  but  go  softly  underneath  the  stars,  lest  God  find 
us  out.  Is  that  not  good  talk,  worthless  one  ? ' 

She  had  shifted  the  accent  on  the  word  that  means 
'beloved,'  in  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  her  purpose.  But 
the  kiss  that  followed  the  new  christening  was  a  thing 
that  any  deity  might  have  envied.  They  went  about 
henceforward  saying,  'It  is  naught,  it  is  naught;'  and 
hoping  that  all  the  Powers  heard. 

The  Powers  were  busy  on  other  things.  They  had 
allowed  thirty  million  people  four  years  of  plenty  wherein 
men  fed  well  and  the  crops  were  certain,  and  the  birth- 
rate rose  year  by  year;  the  districts  reported  a  purely 
agricultural  population  varying  from  nine  hundred  to 
two  thousand  to  the  square  mile  of  the  overburdened 
earth;  and  the  Member  for  Lower  Tooting,  wandering 
about  India  in  pot-hat  and  frock-coat,  talked  largely  of 
the  benefits  of  British  rule  and  suggested  as  the  one 
thing  needful  the  establishment  of  a  duly  qualified  elec- 
toral system  and  a  general  bestowal  of  the  franchise.  His 
long-suffering  hosts  smiled  and  made  him  welcome,  and 
when  he  paused  to  admire,  with  pretty  picked  words, 
the  blossom  of  the  blood-red  dhak-ivce  that  had  flowered 
untimely  for  a  sign  of  what  was  coming,  they  smiled  more 
than  ever. 

It  was  the  Deputy  Commissioner  of  Kot-Kumharsen, 
staying  at  the  club  for  a  day,  who  lightly  told  a  tale 


LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

that  made  Holden's  blood  run  cold  as  he  overheard  the 
end. 

'  He  won't  bother  any  one  any  more.  Never  saw  a 
man  so  astonished  in  my  life.  By  Jove,  I  thought  he 
meant  to  ask  a  question  in  the  House  about  it.  Fellow- 
passenger  in  his  ship — dined  next  him — bowled  over  by 
cholera  and  died  in  eighteen  hours.  You  needn't  laugh, 
you  fellows.  The  Member  for  Lower  Tooting  is  awfully 
angry  about  it;  but  he's  more  scared.  I  think  he's  going 
to  take  his  enlightened  self  out  of  India.' 

*  I'd  give  a  good  deal  if  he  were  knocked  over.  It 
might  keep  a  few  vestrymen  of  his  kidney  to  their  own 
parish.  But  what's  this  about  cholera?  It's  full  early 
for  anything  of  that  kind,'  said  the  warden  of  an  un- 
profitable salt-lick. 

'Don't  know/  said  the  Deputy  Commissioner  reflect- 
ively. 'We've  got  locusts  with  us.  There's  sporadic 
cholera  all  along  the  north — at  least  we're  calling  it 
sporadic  for  decency's  sake.  The  spring  crops  are  short 
in  five  districts,  and  nobody  seems  to  know  where  the 
rains  are.  It's  nearly  March  now.  I  don't  want  to  scare 
anybody,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  Nature's  going  to  audit 
her  accounts  with  a  big  red  pencil  this  summer.' 

'Just  when  I  wanted  to  take  leave,  too  !'  said  a  voice 
across  the  room. 

'There  won't  be  much  leave  this  year,  but  there  ought 
to  be  a  great  deal  of  promotion.  I've  come  in  to  persuade 
the  Government  to  put  my  pet  canal  on  the  list  of  famine- 
relief  works.  It's  an  ill-wind  that  blows  no  good.  I  shall 
get  that  canal  finished  at  last/ 

'  Is  it  the  old  programme  then/  said  Holden;  '  famine, 
fever,  and  cholera  ? ' 

'Oh  no.  Only  local  scarcity  and  an  unusual  preva- 
lence of  seasonal  sickness.  You'll  find  it  all  in  the 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  233 

reports  if  you  live  till  next  year.  You're  a  lucky  chap, 
You  haven't  got  a  wife  to  send  out  of  harm's  way.  The 
hill-stations  ought  to  be  full  of  women  this  year.' 

'  I  think  you're  inclined  to  exaggerate  the  talk  in  the 
bazars,'  said  a  young  civilian  in  the  Secretariat.  '  Now  I 
have  observed ' 

'  I  daresay  you  have/  said  the  Deputy  Commissioner, 
'  but  you've  a  great  deal  more  to  observe,  my  son.  In  the 

meantime,  I  wish  to  observe  to  you '  and  he  drew 

him  aside  to  discuss  the  construction  of  the  canal  that 
was  so  dear  to  his  heart.  Holden  went  to  his  bungalow 
and  began  to  understand  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the 
world,  and  also  that  he  was  afraid  for  the  sake  of 
another, — which  is  the  most  soul-satisfying  fear  known 
to  man. 

Two  months  later,  as  the  Deputy  had  foretold,  Nature 
began  to  audit  her  accounts  with  a  red  pencil.  On  the 
heels  of  the  spring-reapings  came  a  cry  for  bread,  and  the 
Government,  which  had  decreed  that  no  man  should  die 
of  want,  sent  wheat.  Then  came  the  cholera  from  all 
four  quarters  of  the  compass.  It  struck  a  pilgrim-gather- 
ing of  half  a  million  at  a  sacred  shrine.  Many  died  at 
the  feet  of  their  god;  the  others  broke  and  ran  over  the 
face  of  the  land  carrying  the  pestilence  with  them.  It 
smote  a  walled  city  and  killed  two  hundred  a  day.  The 
people  crowded  the  trains,  hanging  on  to  the  footboards 
and  squatting  on  the  roofs  of  the  carriages,  and  the 
cholera  followed  them,  for  at  each  station  they  dragged 
out  the  dead  and  the  dying.  They  died  by  the  roadside, 
and  the  horses  of  the  Englishmen  shied  at  the  corpses  in 
the  grass.  The  rains  did  not  come,  and  the  earth  turned 
to  iron  lest  man  should  escape  death  by  hiding  in  her. 
The  English  sent  their  wives  away  to  the  hills  and  went 
about  their  work,  coming  forward  as  they  were  bidden  to 


234  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

fill  the  gaps  in  the  fighting-line.  Holden,  sick  with  fear 
of  losing  his  chiefest  treasure  on  earth,  had  done  his  best 
to  persuade  Ameera  to  go  away  with  her  mother  to  the 
Himalayas. 

'  Why  should  I  go  ? '  said  she  one  evening  on  the 
roof. 

'  There  is  sickness,  and  people  are  dying,  and  all  the 
white  mem-log  have  gone.' 

' All  of  them?' 

'All — unless  perhaps  there  remain  some  old  scald- 
head  who  vexes  her  husband's  heart  by  running  risk  of 
death.' 

'  Nay ;  who  stays  is  my  sister,  and  thou  must  not 
abuse  her,  for  I  will  be  a  scald-head  too.  I  am  glad  all 
the  bold  mem-log  are  gone.' 

'  Do  I  speak  to  a  woman  or  a  babe  ?  Go  to  the  hills 
and  I  will  see  to  it  that  thou  goest  like  a  queen's 
daughter.  Think,  child.  In  a  red-lacquered  bullock-cart, 
veiled  and  curtained,  with  brass  peacocks  upon  the  pole 
and  red  cloth  hangings.  I  will  send  two  orderlies  for 
guard,  and — 

'Peace!  Thou  art  the  babe  in  speaking  thus. 
What  use  are  those  toys  to  me  ?  He  would  have  patted 
the  bullocks  and  played  with  the  housings.  For  his  sake, 
perhaps, — thou  hast  made  me  very  English — I  might 
have  gone.  Now,  I  will  not.  Let  the  mem-log  run.' 

'  Their  husbands  are  sending  them,  beloved.' 

'Very  good  talk.  Since  when  hast  thou  been  my 
husband  to  tell  me  what  to  do  ?  I  have  but  borne  thee 
a  son.  Thou  art  only  all  the  desire  of  my  soul  to  me. 
How  shall  I  depart  when  I  know  that  if  evil  befall  thee 
by  the  breadth  of  so  much  as  my  littlest  finger-nail — 
is  that  not  small  ? — I  should  be  aware  of  it  though  I 
were  in  paradise.  And  here,  this  summer  thou  mayest 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  235 

die — ai,janee,  die!  and  in  dying  they  might  call  to  tend 
thee  a  white  woman,  and  she  would  rob  me  in  the  last  of 
thy  love ! ' 

'  But  love  is  not  born  in  a  moment  or  on  a  death-bed ! ' 

'  What  dost  thou  know  of  love,  stoneheart  ?  She  would 
take  thy  thanks  at  least  and,  by  God  and  the  Prophet 
and  Beebee  Miriam  the  mother  of  thy  Prophet,  that  I  will 
never  endure.  My  lord  and  my  love,  let  there  be  no 
more  foolish  talk  of  going  away.  AVhere  thou  art,  I  am. 
It  is  enough.'  She  put  an  arm  round  his  neck  and  a  hand 
on  his  mouth. 

There  are  not  many  happinesses  so  complete  as  those 
that  are  snatched  under  the  shadow  of  the  sword.  They 
sat  together  and  laughed,  calling  each  other  openly  by 
every  pet  name  that  could  move  the  wrath  of  the  gods. 
The  city  below  them  was  locked  up  in  its  own  torments. 
Sulphur  fires  blazed  in  the  streets;  the  conches  in  the 
Hindu  temples  screamed  and  bellowed,  for  the  gods  were 
inattentive  in  those  days.  There  was  a  service  in  the 
great  Mahomedan  shrine,  and  the  call  to  prayer  from  the 
minarets  was  almost  unceasing.  They  heard  the  wailing 
in  the  houses  of  the  dead,  and  once  the  shriek  of  a 
mother  who  had  lost  a  child  and  was  calling  for  its  re- 
turn. In  the  gray  dawn  they  saw  the  dead  borne  out 
through  the  city  gates,  each  litter  witli  its  own  little 
knot  of  mourners.  Wherefore  they  kissed  each  other 
and  shivered. 

It  was  a  red  and  heavy  audit,  for  the  land  was  very 
sick  and  needed  a  little  breathing-space  ere  the  torrent 
of  cheap  life  should  flood  it  anew.  The  children  of 
immature  fathers  and  undeveloped  mothers  made  no 
resistance.  They  were  cowed  and  sat  still,  waiting  till 
the  sword  should  be  sheathed  in  November  if  it  were 
so  willed.  There  were  gaps  among  the  English,  but 


236  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

the  gaps  were  filled.  The  work  of  superintending  famine- 
relief,  cholera-sheds,  medicine-distribution,  and  what  little 
sanitation  was  possible,  went  forward  because  it  was  so 
ordered. 

Holden  had  been  told  to  keep  himself  in  readiness  to 
move  to  replace  the  next  man  who  should  fall.  There 
were  twelve  hours  in  each  day  when  he  could  not  see 
Ameera,  and  she  might  die  in  three.  He  was  considering 
what  his  pain  would  be  if  he  could  not  see  her  for  three 
months,  or  if  she  died  out  of  his  sight.  He  was  absolutely 
certain  that  her  death  would  be  demanded — so  certain 
that  when  he  looked  up  from  the  telegram  and  saw  Pir 
Khan  breathless  in  the  doorway,  he  laughed  aloud.  *  And  ?' 
said  he, 

'AVhen  there  is  a  cry  in  the  night  and  the  spirit 
flutters  into  the  throat,  who  has  a  charm  that  will 
restore  ?  Come  swiftly,  Heaven-born !  It  is  the  black 
cholera.' 

Holden  galloped  to  his  home.  The  sky  was  heavy 
with  clouds,  for  the  long-deferred  rains  were  near  and  the 
heat  was  stifling.  Ameera's  mother  met  him  in  the 
courtyard,  whimpering,  '  She  is  dying.  She  is  nursing 
herself  into  death.  She  is  all  but  dead.  What  shall  I  do, 
mliib?' 

Ameera  was  lying  in  the  room  in  which  Tota  had 
been  born.  She  made  no  sign  when  Holden  entered, 
because  the  human  soul  is  a  very  lonely  thing  and,  when 
it  is  getting  ready  to  go  away,  hides  itself  in  a  misty 
borderland  where  the  living  may  not  follow.  The  black 
cholera  does  its  work  quietly  and  without  explanation. 
Ameera  was  being  thrust  out  of  life  as  though  the  Angel 
of  Death  had  himself  put  his  hand  upon  her.  The  quick 
breathing  seemed  to  show  that  she  was  either  afraid  or  in 
pain,  but  neither  eyes  nor  mouth  gave  any  answer  to 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY 

Holden's  kisses.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said  or  done. 
Holden  could  only  wait  and  suffer.  The  first  drops  of  the 
rain  began  to  fall  on  the  roof,  and  he  could  hear  shouts  of 
joy  in  the  parched  city. 

The  soul  came  back  a  little  and  the  lips  moved. 
Holden  bent  down  to  listen.  'Keep  nothing  of  mine/ 
suid  Ameera.  'Take  no  hair  from  my  head.  She  would 
make  thee  burn  it  later  on.  That  flame  I  should  feel. 
Lower!  Stoop  lower!  Remember  only  that  I  was  thine 
and  bore  thee  a  son.  Though  thou  wed  a  white  woman 
to-morrow,  the  pleasure  of  receiving  in  thy  arms  thy  first 
son  is  taken  from  thee  for  ever.  Remember  me  when  thy 
son  is  born — the  one  that  shall  carry  thy  name  before  all 
men.  His  misfortunes  be  on  my  head.  I  bear  witness — 
I  bear  witness ' — the  lips  were  forming  the  words  on  his 
ear — 'that  there  is  no  God  but — thee,  beloved  !' 

Then  she  died.  Holden  sat  still,  and  all  thought  was 
taken  from  him, — till  he  heard  Ameera's  mother  lift  the 
curtain. 

'Is  she  dead,  sahib  ?' 

1  She  is  dead.' 

'Then  I  will  mourn,  and  afterwards  take  an  inventory 
of  the  furniture  in  this  house.  For  that  will  be  mine. 
The  sahib  does  not  mean  to  resume  it  ?  It  is  so  little,  so 
very  little,  sahib,  and  I  am  an  old  woman.  I  would  like 
to  lie  softly.' 

'  For  the  mercy  of  God  be  silent  a  while.  Go  out  and 
mourn  where  I  cannot  hear.' 

'Sahib,  she  will  be  buried  in  four  hours.' 

'I  know  the  custom.  I  shall  go  ere  she  is  taken  away. 
That  matter  is  in  thy  hands.  Look  to  it,  that  the  bed  on 
which — on  which  she  lies — 

'Aha!  That  beautiful  red-lacquered  bed.  I  have  long 
desired ' 


238  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'That  the  bed  is  left  here  untouched  for  my  disposal. 
All  else  in  the  house  is  thine.  Hire  u  cart,  take  every- 
thing, go  hence,  and  before  sunrise  let  there  be  nothing 
in  this  house  but  that  which  I  have  ordered  thee  to 
respect.* 

'  I  am  an  old  woman.  I  would  stay  at  least  for  the 
days  of  mourning,  and  the  rains  have  just  broken. 
Whither  shall  I  go?' 

'  What  is  that  to  me  ?  My  order  is  that  there  is  a  going. 
The  ho  use-gear  is  worth  a  thousand  rupees  and  my  orderly 
shall  bring  thee  a  hundred  rupees  to-night.' 

'  That  is  very  little.     Think  of  the  cart-hire.' 

'  It  shall  be  nothing  unless  thou  goest,  and  with  speed. 
0  woman,  get  hence  and  leave  me  with  my  dead  ! ' 

The  mother  shuffled  down  the  staircase,  and  in  her 
anxiety  to  take  stock  of  the  house-fittings  forgot  to 
mourn.  Holden  stayed  by  Ameera's  side  and  the  rain 
roared  on  the  roof.  He  could  not  think  connectedly 
by  reason  of  the  noise,  though  he  made  many  attempts  to 
do  so.  Then  four  sheeted  ghosts  glided  dripping  into  the 
room  and  stared  at  him  through  their  veils.  They  were 
the  washers  of  the  dead.  Holden  left  the  room  and  went 
out  to  his  horse.  He  had  come  in  a  dead,  stifling  calm 
through  ankle-deep  dust.  He  found  the  courtyard  a  rain- 
lashed  pond  alive  with  frogs;  a  torrent  of  yellow  water  ran 
under  the  gate,  and  a  roaring  wind  drove  the  bolts  of  the 
rain  like  buckshot  against  the  mud-walls.  Pir  Khan  was 
shivering  in  his  little  hut  by  the  gate,  and  the  horse  was 
stamping  uneasily  in  the  water. 

'I  have  been  told  the  saliib's  order,' said  Pir  Khan. 
'It  is  well.  This  house  is  now  desolate.  I  go  also,  for 
my  monkey-face  would  be  a  reminder  of  that  which  has 
been.  Concerning  the  bed,  I  will  bring  that  to  thy 
house  yonder  in  the  morning ;  but  remember,  sahib, 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY  239 

it  will  be  to  thee  a  knife  turning  in  a  green  wound. 
I  go  upon  a  pilgrimage,  and  I  will  take  no  money. 
I  have  grown  fat  in  the  protection  of  the  Presence 
whose  sorrow  is  my  sorrow.  For  the  last  time  I  hold 
his  stirrup.' 

He  touched  Holden's  foot  with  both  hands  and  the 
horse  sprang  out  into  the  road,  where  the  creaking 
bamboos  were  whipping  the  sky  and  all  the  frogs  wrere 
chuckling.  Holden  could  not  see  for  the  rain  in  his 
face.  He  put  his  hands  before  his  eyes  and  muttered — 

'  Oh  you  brute !     You  utter  brute ! ' 

The  news  of  his  trouble  was  already  in  his  bungalow. 
He  read  the  knowledge  in  his  butler's  eyes  when  Ahmed 
Khan  brought  in  food,  and  for  the  first  and  last  time  in 
his  life  laid  a  hand  upon  his  master's  shoulder,  saying, 
'  Eat,  sahib,  eat.  Meat  is  good  against  sorrow.  I  also 
have  known.  Moreover  the  shadows  come  and  go, 
sahib;  the  shadows  come  and  go.  These  be  curried 
eggs.' 

Holden  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep.  The  heavens 
sent  down  eight  inches  of  rain  in  that  night  and 
washed  the  earth  clean.  The  waters  tore  down  walls, 
broke  roads,  and  scoured  open  the  shallow  graves  on 
the  Mahomedan  burying-ground.  All  next  day  it 
rained,  and  Holden  sat  still  in  his  house  considering 
his  sorrow.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  he  re- 
ceived a  telegram  which  said  only,  '  Ricketts,  Myndonie. 
Dying.  Holden  relieve.  Immediate.'  Then  he  thought 
that  before  he  departed  he  would  look  at  the  house 
wherein  he  had  been  master  and  lord.  There  was  a 
break  in  the  weather,  and  the  rank  earth  steamed  with 
vapour. 

He  found  that  the  rains  had  torn  down  the  mud 
pillars  of  the  gateway,  and  the  heavy  wooden  gate  that 


240  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

had  guarded  his  life  hung  lazily  from  one  hinge.  There 
was  grass  three  inches  high  in  the  courtyard;  Pir  Khan's 
lodge  was  empty,  and  the  sodden  thatch  sagged  between 
the  beams.  A  gray  squirrel  was  in  possession  of  the 
verandah,  as  if  the  house  had  been  untenanted  for  thirty 
years  instead  of  three  days.  Ameera's  mother  had  re- 
moved everything  except  some  mildewed  matting.  The 
tick-tick  of  the  little  scorpions  as  they  hurried  across  the 
floor  was  the  only  sound  in  the  house.  Ameera's  room 
and  the  other  one  where  Tota  had  lived  were  heavy  with 
mildew;  and  the  narrow  staircase  leading  to  the  roof  was 
streaked  and  stained  with  rain-borne  mud.  Holden  saw 
all  these  things,  and  came  out  again  to  meet  ill  the  road 
Durga  Dass,  his  landlord, — portly,  affable,  clothed  in 
white  muslin,  and  driving  a  Gee-spring  buggy.  He  was 
overlooking  his  property  to  see  how  the  roofs  stood  the 
stress  of  the  first  rains. 

'I  have  heard,'  said  he,  'you  will  not  take  this  place 
any  more,  sail  ib  ?  ' 

'  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?  ' 

'  Perhaps  I  shall  let  it  again.' 

'  Then  I  will  keep  it  on  while  I  am  away.* 
Durga   Dass   was  silent   for  some   time.      *  You   shall 
not  take  it  on,  sahib,'  he  said.     '  When  I  was  a  young 

man    I    also ,   but    to-day   I   am   a   member    of    the 

Municipality.  Ho!  Ho!  No.  When  the  birds  have 
gone  what  need  to  keep  the  nest?  I  will  have  it  pulled 
down — the  timber  will  sell  for  something  always.  It 
shall  be  pulled  down,  and  the  Municipality  shall  make  a 
road  across,  as  they  desire,  from  the  burning-ghaut  to  the 
city  wall,  so  that  no  man  may  say  where  this  house 
stood.' 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE 

The  sky  is  lead  and  our  faces  are  red, 
And  the  gates  of  Hell  are  opened  and  riven, 
And  the  winds  of  Hell  are  loosened  and  driven, 

And  the  dust  flies  up  in  the  face  of  Heaven, 
And  the  clouds  come  down  in  a  fiery  sheet, 

Heavy  to  raise  and  hard  to  be  borne. 
And  the  soul  of  man  is  turned  from  his  meat, 

Turned  from  the  trifles  for  which  he  has  striven 
Sick  in  his  body,  and  heavy  hearted, 
And  his  soul  flies  up  like  the  dust  in  the  sheet 
Breaks  from  his  flesh  and  is  gone  and  departed, 

As  the  blasts  they  blow  on  the  cholera-horn. 

Himalayan. 

FOUR  men,  each  entitled  to  '  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit 
of  happiness/  sat  at  a  table  playing  whist.  The  thermo- 
meter marked — for  them — one  hundred  and  one  degrees 
of  heat.  The  room  was  darkened  till  it  was  only  just 
possible  to  distinguish  the  pips  of  the  cards  and  the  very 
white  faces  of  the  players.  A  tattered,  rotten  punkah  of 
whitewashed  calico  was  puddling  the  hot  air  and  whining 
dolefully  at  each  stroke.  Outside  lay  gloom  of  a  Novem- 
ber day  in  London.  There  was  neither  sky,  sun,  nor 
horizon, — nothing  but  a  brown  purple  haze  of  heat.  It 
was  as  though  the  earth  were  dying  of  apoplexy. 

From  time  to  time  clouds  of  tawny  dust  rose  from 
the  ground  without  wind  or  warning,  flung  themselves 
tablecloth-wise  among  the  tops  of  the  parched  trees, 
and  came  down  again.  Then  a  whirling  dust-devil  would 


242  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

scutter  across  the  plain  for  a  couple  of  miles,  break,  and 
fall  outward,  though  there  was  nothing  to  check  its  flight 
save  a  long  low  line  of  piled  railway-sleepers  white  with 
the  dust,  a  cluster  of  huts  made  of  mud,  condemned  rails, 
and  canvas,  and  the  one  squat  four-roomed  bungalow  that 
belonged  to  the  assistant  engineer  in  charge  of  a  section 
of  the  Gaudhari  State  line  then  under  construction. 

The  four,  stripped  to  the  thinnest  of  sleeping-suits, 
played  whist  crossly,  with  wranglings  as  to  leads  and 
returns.  It  was  not  the  best  kind  of  whist,  but  they  had 
taken  some  trouble  to  arrive  at  it.  Mottram  of  the  Indian 
Survey  had  ridden  thirty  and  railed  one  hundred  miles 
from  his  lonely  post  in  the  desert  since  the  night  before; 
Lowndes  of  the  Civil  Service,  on  special  duty  in  the 
political  department,  had  come  as  far  to  escape  for  an 
instant  the  miserable  intrigues  of  an  impoverished  native 
State  whose  king  alternately  fawned  and  blustered  for 
more  money  from  the  pitiful  revenues  contributed  by 
hard-wrung  peasants  and  despairing  camel-breeders; 
Spurstow,  the  doctor  of  the  line,  had  left  a  cholera-stricken 
camp  of  coolies  to  look  after  itself  for  forty-eight  hours 
while  he  associated  with  white  men  once  more.  Hummil, 
the  assistant  engineer,  was  the  host.  He  stood  fast  and 
received  his  friends  thus  every  Sunday  if  they  could  come 
in.  When  one  of  them  failed  to  appear,  he  would  send 
a  telegram  to  his  last  address,  in  order  that  he  might 
know  whether  the  defaulter  were  dead  or  alive.  There  are 
very  many  places  in  the  East  where  it  is  not  good  or  kind 
to  let  your  acquaintances  drop  out  of  sight  even  for  one 
short  week. 

The  players  were  not  conscious  of  any  special  regard 
for  each  other.  They  squabbled  whenever  they  met;  but 
they  ardently  desired  to  meet,  as  men  without  water 
desire  to  drink.  They  were  lonely  folk  who  understood 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  243 

the  dread  meaning  of  loneliness.  They  were  all  under 
thirty  years  of  age, — which  is  too  soon  for  any  man  to 
possess  that  knowledge. 

'  Pilsener  ? '  said  Spurstow,  after  the  second  rubber, 
mopping  his  forehead. 

*  Beer's  out,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  and  there's  hardly 
enough  soda-water  for  to-night,'  said  Hummil. 

'What  filthy  bad  management  ! '  Spurstow  snarled. 

'Can't  help  it.  I've  written  and  wired  ;  but  the  trains 
don't  come  through  regularly  yet.  Last  week  the  ice  ran 
out, — as  Lowndes  knows.' 

'Glad  I  didn't  come.  I  could  ha'  sent  you  some  if  I 
had  known,  though.  Phew  !  it's  too  hot  to  go  on  playing 
bumblepuppy.'  This  with  a  savage  scowl  at  Lowndes,  who 
only  laughed.  He  was  a  hardened  offender. 

Mottram  rose  from  the  table  and  looked  out  of  a 
chink  in  the  shutters. 

'  What  a  sweet  day  ! '  said  lie. 

The  company  yawned  all  together  and  betook  them- 
selves to  an  aimless  investigation  of  all  Hummil's  pos- 
sessions,— guns,  tattered  novels,  saddlery,  spurs,  and  the 
like.  They  had  fingered  them  a  score  of  times  before, 
but  there  was  really  nothing  else  to  do. 

*  Got  anything  fresh  ? '  said  Lowndes. 

'  Last  week's  Gazette  of  India,  and  a  cutting  from  a 
home  paper.  My  father  sent  it  out.  It's  rather 
amusing.' 

'One  of  those  vestrymen  that  call  'emselves  M.P.'s 
again,  is  it?'  said  Spurstow,  who  read  his  newspapers 
when  he  could  get  them. 

'  Yes.  Listen  to  this.  It's  to  your  address,  Lowndes. 
The  man  was  making  a  speech  to  his  constituents,  and  he 
piled  it  on.  Here's  a  sample:  "And  I  assert  unhesitatingly 
that  the  Civil  Service  in  India  is  the  preserve — the  pet 


244  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

preserve — of  the  aristocracy  of  England.  What  does  the 
democracy — what  do  the  masses — get  from  that  country, 
which  we  have  step  by  step  fraudulently  annexed  ?  I 
answer,  nothing  whatever.  It  is  farmed  with  a  single  eye 
to  their  own  interests  by  the  scions  of  the  aristocracy. 
They  take  good  care  to  maintain  their  lavish  scale  of 
incomes,  to  avoid  or  stifle  any  inquiries  into  the  nature 
and  conduct  of  their  administration,  while  they  themselves 
force  the  unhappy  peasant  to  pay  with  the  sweat  of  his 
brow  for  all  the  luxuries  in  which  they  are  lapped." 
llummil  waved  the  cutting  above  his  head.  '  'Ear  !  'ear  ! ' 
said  his  audience. 

Then  Lowndes,  meditatively:  'I'd  give — I'd  give  three 
months'  pay  to  have  that  gentleman  spend  one  month  with 
me  and  see  how  the  free  and  independent  native  prince 
works  things.  Old  Timbersides ' — this  was  his  flippant 
title  for  an  honoured  and  decorated  feudatory  prince — 
'has  been  wearing  my  life  out  this  week  past  for  money. 
By  Jove,  his  latest  performance  was  to  send  me  one  of 
his  women  as  a  bribe  ! ' 

'  Good  for  you  !     Did  you  accept  it? '  said  Mottram. 

'  No.  I  rather  wish  I  had,  now.  She  was  a  pretty 
little  person,  and  she  yarned  away  to  me  about  the  horrible 
destitution  among  the  king's  women-folk.  The  darlings 
haven't  had  any  new  clothes  for  nearly  a  month,  and 
the  old  man  wants  to  buy  a  new  drag  from  Calcutta,— 
solid  silver  railings  and  silver  lamps,  and  trifles  of  that 
kind.  I've  tried  to  make  him  understand  that  he  has 
played  the  deuce  with  the  revenues  for  the  last  twenty 
years  and  must  go  slow.  He  can't  see  it.' 

'  But  he  has  the  ancestral  treasure-vaults  to  draw  on. 
There  must  be  three  millions  at  least  in  jewels  and  coin 
under  his  palace,'  said  Hummil. 

'Catcli  a  native  king  disturbing  the  family  treasure  .' 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE       245 

The  priests  forbid  it  except  as  the  last  resort.  Old 
Timbersides  has  added  something  like  a  quarter  of  a 
million  to  the  deposit  in  his  reign.' 

'  Where  the  mischief  does  it  all  come  from  ? '  said 
Mottram. 

'  The  country.  The  state  of  the  people  is  enough  to 
make  you  sick.  I've  known  the  tax-men  wait  by  a 
milch-camel  till  the  foal  was  born  and  then  hurry  off  the 
mother  for  arrears.  And  what  can  I  do  ?  I  can't  get 
the  court  clerks  to  give  me  any  accounts  ;  I  can't  raise 
anything  more  than  a  fat  smile  from  the  commander-iu- 
chief  when  I  find  out  the  troops  are  three  months  in 
arrears  ;  and  old  Timbersides  begins  to  weep  when  I  speak 
to  him.  He  has  taken  to  the  King's  Peg  heuvil}', — liqueur 
brandy  for  whisky,  and  Heidsieck  for  soda-water.' 

*  That's  what  the  Rao  of  Jubela  took  to.  Even  a 
native  can't  last  long  at  that/  said  Spurstow.  'He'll  go 
out/ 

'And  a  good  thing,  too.  Then  I  suppose  we'll  have 
a  council  of  regency,  and  a  tutor  for  the  young  prince, 
and  hand  him  back  his  kingdom  with  ten  years' 
accumulations.' 

'Whereupon  that  young  prince,  having  been  taught  all 
the  vices  of  the  English,  will  play  ducks  and  drakes  with 
the  money  and  undo  ten  years'  work  in  eighteen  months. 
I've  seen  that  business  before,'  said  Spurstow.  '  I  should 
tackle  the  king  with  a  light  hand,  if  I  were  you,  Lowndes. 
They'll  hate  you  quite  enough  under  any  circumstances.' 

'  That's  all  very  well.  The  man  who  looks  on  can 
talk  about  the  light  hand  ;  but  you  can't  clean  a  pig-stye 
with  a  pen  dipped  in  rose-water.  I  know  my  risks  ;  but 
nothing  has  happened  yet.  My  servant's  an  old  Pathan, 
and  he  cooks  for  me.  They  are  hardly  likely  to  bribe  him, 
and  I  don't  accept  food  from  rny  true  friends,  as  they  call 


246  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

themselves.  Oh,  but  it's  weary  work  !  I'd  sooner  1  .«.• 
with  you,  Spurstow.  There's  shooting  near  your  camp.' 

'Would  you  ?  I  don't  think  it.  About  fifteen  deaths 
a  day  don't  incite  a  man  to  shoot  anything  but  himself. 
And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  poor  devils  look  at  you  as 
though  you  ought  to  save  them.  Lord  knows,  I've  tried 
everything.  My  last  attempt  was  empirical,  but  it  pulled 
an  old  man  through.  He  was  brought  to  me  apparently 
past  hope,  and  I  gave  him  gin  and  Worcester  sauce  with 
cayenne.  It  cured  him  ;  but  I  don't  recommend  it.' 

'  How  do  the  cases  run  generally?  '  said  Hummil. 

'Very  simply  indeed.  Chlorodyne,  opium  pill,  chloro- 
dyne,  collapse,  nitre,  bricks  to  the  feet,  and  then — the 
burning-ghat.  The  last  seems  to  be  the  only  thing  that 
stops  the  trouble.  It's  black  cholera,  you  know.  Poor 
devils  !  But,  I  will  say,  little  Bunsee  Lai,  my  apothecary, 
works  like  a  demon.  I've  recommended  him  for  promotion 
if  he  comes  through  it  all  alive/ 

'  And  what  are  your  chances,  old  man  ?  '  said  Mottram. 

'Don't  know;  don't  care  much;  but  I've  sent  the 
letter  in.  What  are  you  doing  with  yourself  generally  ?  ' 

'Sitting  under  a  table  in  the  tent  and  spitting  on  the 
sextant  to  keep  it  cool,'  said  the  man  of  the  survey. 
'Washing  my  eyes  to  avoid  ophthalmia,  which  I  shall 
certainly  get,  and  trying  to  make  a  sub-surveyor  under- 
stand that  an  error  of  five  degrees  in  an  angle  isn't  quite 
so  small  as  it  looks.  I'm  altogether  alone,  y'  know,  and 
shall  be  till  the  end  of  the  hot  weather.' 

'Hummil's  the  lucky  man,'  said  Lowndes,  flinging 
himself  into  a  long  chair.  'He  has  an  actual  roof — torn 
as  to  the  ceiling-cloth,  but  still  a  roof — over  his  head. 
He  sees  one  train  daily.  He  can  get  beer  and  soda-water 
and  ice  'em  when  God  is  good.  He  has  books,  pictures,' — 
they  were  torn  from  the  Graphic,  —  'and  the  society  of 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE       247 

the  excellent  sub-contractor  Jevins,  besides  the  pleasure 
of  receiving  us  weekly.' 

Hummil  smiled  grimly.  'Yes,  I'm  the  lucky  man,  I 
suppose.  Jevins  is  luckier/ 

'How?    Not ' 

'Yes.     Went  out.     Lust  Monday/ 

'By  his  own  hand?'  said  Spurstow  quickly,  hinting 
the  suspicion  that  was  in  everybody's  mind.  There  was 
no  cholera  near  Hummil's  section.  Even  fever  gives  a 
man  at  least  a  week's  grace,  and  sudden  death  generally 
implied  self-slaughter. 

'  I  judge  no  man  this  weather,'  said  Hummil.  '  He 
had  a  touch  of  the  sun,  I  fancy;  for  last  week,  after  you 
fellows  had  left,  he  came  into  the  verandah  and  told  me 
that  he  was  going  home  to  see  his  wife,  in  Market  Street, 
Liverpool,  that  evening. 

'  I  got  the  apothecary  in  to  look  at  him,  and  we  tried 
to  make  him  lie  down.  After  an  hour  or  two  he  rubbed 
his  eyes  and  said  he  believed  he  had  had  a  fit, — hoped  he 
hadn't  said  anything  rude.  Jevins  had  a  great  idea  of 
bettering  himself  socially.  He  was  very  like  Chucks  in 
his  language.' 

'  Well  ? ' 

'Then  he  went  to  his  own  bungalow  and  began  clean- 
ing a  rifle.  lie  told  the  servant  that  he  was  going  to 
shoot  buck  in  the  morning.  Naturally  he  fumbled  with 
the  trigger,  and  shot  himself  through  the  head — accident- 
ally. The  apothecary  sent  in  a  report  to  my  chief,  and 
Jevins  is  buried  somewhere  out  there.  I'd  have  wired  to 
you,  Spurstow,  if  you  could  have  done  anything.' 

'You're  a  queer  chap,'  said  Mottram.  '  If  you'd  killed 
the  man  yourself  you  couldn't  have  been  more  quiet  about 
the  business/ 

'Good    Lord!   what   does   it    matter?'    said    Hummil 


248  LIFES   HANDICAP 

calmly.  'I've  got  to  do  a  lot  of  his  overseeing  work  in 
addition  to  my  own.  I'm  the  only  person  that  suffers. 
Jevins  is  out  of  it, — by  pure  accident,  of  course,  but  out 
of  it.  The  apothecary  was  going  to  write  a  long  screed 
on  suicide.  Trust  a  babu  to  drivel  when  he  gets  the 
chance/ 

'Why  didn't  you  let  it  go  in  as  suicide?'  said 
Lowndes. 

'No  direct  proof.  A  man  hasn't  many  privileges  in 
this  country,  but  he  might  at  least  be  allowed  to  mis- 
handle his  own  rifle.  Besides,  some  day  I  may  need  a 
man  to  smother  up  an  accident  to  myself.  Live  and 
let  live.  Die  and  let  die.' 

'You  take  a  pill,'  said  Spurstow,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing Hummil's  white  face  narrowly.  'Take  a  pill,  and 
don't  be  an  ass.  That  sort  of  talk  is  skittles.  Anyhow, 
suicide  is  shirking  your  work.  If  I  were  Job  ten  times 
over,  I  should  be  so  interested  in  what  was  going  to 
happen  next  that  I'd  stay  on  and  watch.' 

'  Ah !  I've  lost  that  curiosity,'  said  Hummil. 

c  Liver  out  of  order?'  said  Lowndes  feelingly. 

'No.     Can't  sleep.     That's  worse.' 

'  By  Jove,  it  is  ! '  said  Mottram.  '  I'm  that  way  every 
now  and  then,  and  the  fit  has  to  wear  itself  out.  What 
do  you  take  for  it  ?  ' 

'Nothing.  What's  the  use?  I  haven't  had  ten 
minutes'  sleep  since  Friday  morning.' 

'Poor  chap!  Spurstow,  you  ought  to  attend  to  this,' 
said  Mottram.  'Now  you  mention  it,  your  eyes  are 
rather  gummy  and  swollen.' 

Spurstow,  still  watching  Hummil,  laughed  lightly. 
'  I'll  patch  him  up,  later  on.  Is  it  too  hot,  do  you  think, 
to  go  for  a  ride  ? ' 

'  Where  to  ? '  said  Lowndes  wearily.     '  We  shall  have 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  249 

to  go  away  at  eight,  and  there'll  be  riding  enough  for  us 
then.  I  hate  a  horse,  when  I  have  to  use  him  as  a 
necessity.  Oh,  heavens  !  what  is  there  to  do  ? ' 

'Begin  whist  again,  at  chick  points  ['a  chick'  is  sup- 
posed to  be  eight  shillings]  and  a  gold  mohur  on  the  rub/ 
s;iid  Spurstow  promptly. 

'Poker.  A  month's  pay  all  round  for  the  pool, — no 
limit,— and  fifty-rupee  raises.  Somebody  would  be  broken 
before  we  got  up,'  said  Lowndes. 

'  Can't  say  that  it  would  give  me  any  pleasure  to  break 
any  man  in  this  company,'  said  Mottram.  'There  isn't 
enough  excitement  in  it,  and  it's  foolish.'  He  crossed 
over  to  the  worn  and  battered  little  camp-piano, — wreck- 
age of  a  married  household  that  had  once  held  the 
bungalow, — and  opened  the  case. 

'It's  used  up  long  ago,'  said  Ilummil.  'The  servants 
have  picked  it  to  pieces.' 

The  piano  was  indeed  hopelessly  out  of  order,  but 
Mottram  managed  to  bring  the  rebellious  notes  into  a  sort 
of  agreement,  and  there  rose  from  the  ragged  keyboard 
something  that  might  once  have  been  the  ghost  of  a 
popular  music-hall  song.  The  men  in  the  long  chairs 
turned  with  evident  interest  as  Mottram  banged  the  more 
lustily. 

'That's  good!'  said  Lowndes.  'By  Jove!  the  last 
time  I  heard  that  song  was  in  '79,  or  thereabouts,  just 
before  I  came  out.' 

'Ah  !'  said  Spurstow  with  pride,  'I  was  home  in  '80.' 
And  he  mentioned  a  song  of  the  streets  popular  at  that 
date. 

Mottram  executed  it  roughly.  Lowndes  criticised 
and  volunteered  emendations.  Mottram  dashed  into  an- 
other ditty,  not  of  the  music-hall  character,  and  made 
us  if  to  rise. 


250  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'Sit  down,'  said  Ilummil.  'I  didn't  know  that  you 
had  Jiny  music  in  your  composition.  Go  on  phiying  until 
you  can't  think  of  anything  more.  I'll  have  that  piano 
tuned  up  before  you  come  again.  Play  something 
festive.' 

Very  simple  indeed  were  the  tunes  to  which  Mottram's 
art  and  the  limitations  of  the  piano  could  give  effect,  but 
the  men  listened  with  pleasure,  and  in  the  pauses  talked 
all  together  of  what  they  had  seen  or  heard  when  they 
were  last  at  home.  A  dense  dust-storm  sprung  up  out- 
side, and  swept  roaring  over  the  house,  enveloping  it  in 
the  choking  darkness  of  midnight,  but  Mottram  continued 
unheeding,  and  the  crazy  tinkle  reached  the  ears  of  the 
listeners  above  the  napping  of  the  tattered  ceiling-cloth. 

In  the  silence  after  the  storm  he  glided  from  the 
more  directly  personal  songs  of  Scotland,  half  humming 
them  as  he  played,  into  the  Evening  Hymn. 

'Sunday,'  said  he,  nodding  his  head. 

'Go  on.     Don't  apologise  for  it,'  said  Spurstow. 

Hummil  laughed  long  and  riotously.  '  Play  it,  by  all 
means.  You're  full  of  surprises  to-day.  I  didn't  know 
you  had  such  a  gift  of  finished  sarcasm.  How  does  that 
thing  go  ? ' 

Mottram  took  up  the  tune. 

'Too  slow  by  half.  You  miss  the  note  of  gratitude,' 
said  Hummil.  'It  ought  to  go  to  the  "Grasshopper's 
Polka," — this  way.'  And  he  chanted.,  prestissimo,— 

'  Glory  to  thee,  my  God,  this  night, 
For  all  the  blessings  of  the  light. 

That  shows  we  really  feel  our  blessings.     How  does  it  go 
on?— 

'  If  in  the  night  I  sleepless  lie, 
My  soul  with  sacred  thoughts  supply  ; 
May  no  ill  dreams  disturb  my  rest,' — 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  251 

Quicker,  Mottram! — 

4  Or  powers  of  darkness  me  molest!' 

'Bah!  what  an  old  hypocrite  you  are!' 

'Don't  be  an  ass/  said  Lowndes.  'You  are  at  full 
liberty  to  make  fun  of  anything  else  you  like,  but  leave 
that  hymn  alone.  It's  associated  in  my  mind  with  the 
most  sacred  recollections ' 

'Summer  evenings  in  the  country, — stained-glass 
window, —light  going  out,  and  you  and  she  jamming  your 
heads  together  over  one  hymn-book,'  said  Mottram. 

'  Yes,  and  a  fat  old  cockchafer  hitting  you  in  the  eye 
when  you  walked  home.  Smell  of  hay,  and  a  moon  as 
big  as  a  bandbox  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  haycock;  bats, 
— roses, — milk  and  midges,'  said  Lowndes. 

'  Also  mothers.  I  can  just  recollect  my  mother  singing 
me  to  sleep  with  that  when  I  was  a  little  chap,'  said 
Spurs  tow. 

The  darkness  had  fallen  on  the  room.  They  could 
hear  Hummil  squirming  in  his  chair. 

' Consequently,' said  he  testily,  'you  sing  it  when  you 
are  seven  fathom  deep  in  Hell!  It's  an  insult  to  the 
intelligence  of  the  Deity  to  pretend  we're  anything  but 
tortured  rebels.' 

'Take  two  pills/  said  Spurstow;  'that's  tortured 
liver/ 

'The  usually  placid  Hummil  is  in  a  vile  bad  temper. 
I'm  sorry  for  his  coolies  to-morrow/  said  Lowndes,  as  the 
servants  brought  in  the  lights  and  prepared  the  table  for 
dinner. 

As  they  were  settling  into  their  places  about  the  miser- 
able goat-chops,  and  the  smoked  tapioca  pudding,  Spurstow 
took  occasion  to  whisper  to  Mottram,  '  Well  done,  David!' 

'Look  after  Saul,  then/  was  the  reply. 


252  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'What  arc  you  two  whispering  about? 'said  Humniil 
suspiciously. 

'Only  saying  that  you  are  a  damned  poor  host.  This 
fowl  can't  be  cut/  returned  Spurstow  with  a  sweet  smile. 
'Call  this  a  dinner?' 

'  I  can't  help  it.     You  don't  expect  a  banquet,  do  you  ? ' 

Throughout  that  meal  Hum  mil  contrived  laboriously 
to  insult  directly  and  pointedly  all  his  guests  in  succession, 
and  at  each  insult  Spurstow  kicked  the  aggrieved  persons 
under  the  table;  but  he  dared  not  exchange  a  glance  of 
intelligence  with  either  of  them.  Hummil's  face  was 
white  and  pinched,  while  his  eyes  were  unnaturally  large. 
No  man  dreamed  for  a  moment  of  resenting  his  savage 
personalities,  but  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over  they  made 
haste  to  get  away. 

'  Don't  go.  You're  just  getting  amusing,  you  fellows. 
I  hope  I  haven't  said  anything  that  annoyed  you. 
You're  such  touchy  devils.'  Then,  changing  the  note  into 
one  of  almost  abject  entreaty,  Humniil  added,  '  I  say,  you 
surely  aren't  going?' 

'In  the  language  of  the  blessed  Jorrocks,  where  I 
dines  I  sleeps,'  said  Spurstow.  'I  want  to  have  a  look  at 
your  coolies  to-morrow,  if  you  don't  mind.  You  can  give 
me  a  place  to  lie  down  in,  I  suppose  ? ' 

The  others  pleaded  the  urgency  of  their  several 
duties  next  day,  and,  saddling  up,  departed  together, 
Ilummil  begging  them  to  come  next  Sunday.  As  they 
jogged  off,  Lowndes  unbosomed  himself  to  Mottram — 

'  .  .  .  And  I  never  felt  so  like  kicking  a  man  at  his 
own  table  in  my  life.  He  said  I  cheated  at  whist,  and  re- 
minded me  I  was  in  debt!  'Told  you  you  were  as  good 
as  a  liar  to  your  face!  You  aren't  half  indignant  enough 
over  it.' 

'  Not  I,'  said  Mottram.     '  Poor  devil !     Did  you  ever 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE       253 

know  old  Hummy   behave  like  that  before  or  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  it?' 

'That's  no  excuse.  Spurstow  was  hacking  my  shin 
all  the  time,  so  I  kept  a  hand  on  myself.  Else  I  should 
have ' 

'  No,  you  wouldn't.  You'd  have  done  as  Hummy  did 
about  Jevins;  judge  no  man  this  weather.  By  Jove! 
the  buckle  of  my  bridle  is  hot  in  my  hand!  Trot  out  a 
bit,  and  'ware  rat-holes.' 

Ten  minutes'  trotting  jerked  out  of  Lowndes  one  very 
sage  remark  when  he  pulled  up,  sweating  from  every 
pore — 

"Good  thing  Spurstow's  with  him  to-night.' 

'  Ye-es.  Good  man,  Spurstow.  Our  roads  turn  here. 
See  you  again  next  Sunday,  if  the  sun  doesn't  bowl  me 
over.' 

'S'pose  so,  unless  old  Timbersides'  finance  minister 
manages  to  dress  some  of  my  food.  Good-night,  and— 
God  bless  you ! ' 

'What's  wrong  now  ?' 

'Oh,  nothing.'     Lowndes  gathered  up  his  whip,  and, 

as    he    nicked    Mottram's    mare    on    the    flank,   added, 

'You're    not    a    bad    little   chap, — that's   all.'     And    the 

.  mare     bolted    half    a    mile    across    the    sand,    on    the 

word. 

In  the  assistant  engineer's  bungalow  Spurstow  and 
Hummil  smoked  the  pipe  of  silence  together,  each  nar- 
rowly watching  the  other.  The  capacity  of  a  bachelor's 
establishment  is  as  elastic  as  its  arrangements  are  simple. 
A  servant  cleared  away  the  dining-room  table,  brought 
in  a  couple  of  rude  native  bedsteads  made  of  tape 
strung  on  a  light  wood  frame,  flung  a  square  of  cool 
Calcutta  matting  over  each,  set  them  side  by  side,  pinned 
two  towels  to  the  punkah  so  that  their  fringes  should 


254  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

just  sweep  clear  of  the  sleepers'  nose  and  mouth,  and 
announced  that  the  couches  were  ready. 

The  men  flung  themselves  down,  ordering  the  punkah- 
coolies  by  all  the  powers  of  Hell  to  pull.  Every  door 
and  window  was  shut,  for  the  outside  air  was  that  of 
an  oven.  The  atmosphere  within  was  only  104°,  as 
the  thermometer  bore  witness,  and  heavy  with  the  foul 
smell  of  badly-trimmed  kerosene  lamps;  and  this  stench, 
combined  with  that  of  native  tobacco,  baked  brick,  and 
dried  earth,  sends  the  heart  of  many  a  strong  man  down 
to  his  boots,  for  it  is  the  smell  of  the  Great  Indian 
Empire  when  she  turns  herself  for  six  months  into  a 
house  of  torment.  Spurstow  packed  his  pillows  craftily 
so  that  he  reclined  rather  than  lay,  his  head  at  a  safe 
elevation  above  his  feet.  It  is  not  good  to  sleep  on  a 
low  pillow  in  the  hot  weather  if  you  happen  to  be  of 
thick-necked  build,  for  you  may  pass  with  lively  snores 
and  gugglings  from  natural  sleep  into  the  deep  slumber 
of  heat-apoplexy. 

'I'ack  your  pillows,'  said  the  doctor  sharply,  as  he 
saw  llummil  preparing  to  lie  down  at  full  length. 

The  night-light  was  trimmed;  the  shadow  of  the 
punkah  wavered  across  the  room,  and  the  'flick'  of  the 
punkah-towel  and  the  soft  whine  of  the  rope  through 
the  wall-hole  followed  it.  Then  the  punkah  flagged, 
almost  ceased.  The  sweat  poured  from  Spurstow's  brow. 
Should  he  go  out  and  harangue  the  coolie?  It  started 
forward  again  with  a  savage  jerk,  and  a  pin  came  out  of 
the  towels.  When  this  was  replaced,  a  tomtom  in  the 
coolie-lines  began  to  beat  with  the  steady  throb  of  a 
swollen  artery  inside  some  brain-fevered  skull.  Spur- 
stow  turned  on  his  side  and  swore  gently.  There  was 
no  movement  on  nummil's  part.  The  man  had  com- 
posed himself  as  rigidly  as  a  corpse,  his  hands  clinched 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE       255 

at  his  sides.  The  respiration  was  too  hurried  for  any 
suspicion  of  sleep.  Spurstow  looked  at  the  set  face.  The 
jaws  were  clinched,  and  there  was  a  pucker  round  the 
quivering  eyelids. 

( He's  holding  himself  as  tightly  as  ever  he  can,'  thought 
Spurstow.  *  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  him  ? — 
Hummil! ' 

'Yes,'  in  a  thick  constrained  voice. 

'  Can't  you  get  to  sleep  ? ' 

'No.' 

'Head  hot  ?    'Throat  feeling  hulgy?  or  how?' 

'Neither,  thanks.     I  don't  sleep  much,  you  know/ 

"Feel  pretty  bad  ?' 

'Pretty  bad,  thanks.  There  is  a  tomtom  outside,  isn't 
there?  I  thought  it  was  my  head  at  first.  .  .  .  Oh 
Spurstow,  for  pity's  sake  give  me  something  that  will 
put  me  asleep, — sound  asleep, — if  it's  only  for  six  hours!' 
He  sprang  up,  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  'I  haven't 
been  able  to  sleep  naturally  for  days,  and  I  can't  stand  it ! 
— I  can't  stand  it!' 

'  Poor  old  chap ! ' 

'That's  DO  use.  Give  me  something  to  make  me  sleep. 
I  tell  you  I'm  nearly  mad.  I  don't  know  what  I  say 
half  my  time.  For  three  weeks  I've  had  .to  think  and 
spell  out  every  word  that  has  come  through  my  lips 
before  I  dared  say  it.  Isn't  that  enough  to  drive  a  man 
mad?  I  can't  see  things  correctly  now,  and  I've  lost  my 
sense  of  touch.  My  skin  aches — my  skin  aches!  Make 
me  sleep.  Oh,  Spurstow,  for  the  love  of  God  make  me 
sleep  sound.  It  isn't  enough  merely  to  let  me  dream. 
Let  me  sleep ! ' 

'All  right,  old  man,  all  right.  Go  slow;  you  aren't 
half  as  bad  as  you  think.' 

The  flood-gates  of  reserve  once  broken,   Hummil  was 


256  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

clinging  to  him  like  a  frightened  child.     '  You're  pinching 
my  arm  to  pieces.' 

'I'll  break  your  neck  if  you  don't  do  something  for 
me.  No,  I  didn't  mean  that.  Don't  be  angry,  old 
fellow.'  He  wiped  the  sweat  off  himself  as  he  fought 
to  regain  composure.  '  I'm  a  bit  restless  and  off  my  oats, 
and  perhaps  you  could  recommend  some  sort  of  sleeping 
mixture, — bromide  of  potassium.' 

'Bromide  of  skittles!  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this 
before?  Let  go  of  my  arm,  and  I'll  see  if  there's 
anything  in  my  cigarette-case  to  suit  your  complaint.' 
Spurstow  hunted  among  his  day-clothes,  turned  up  the 
lump,  opened  a  little  silver  cigarette-case,  and  advanced 
on  the  expectant  Hummil  with  the  daintiest  of  fairy 
squirts. 

'The  last  appeal  of  civilisation,'  said  he,  'and  a  thing  I 
hate  to  use.  Hold  out  your  arm.  Well,  your  sleepless- 
ness hasn't  ruined  your  muscle;  and  what  a  thick  hide  it 
is!  Might  as  well  inject  a  buffalo  subcutaneously.  Now 
in  a  few  minutes  the  morphia  will  begin  working.  Lie 
down  and  wait.' 

A  smile  of  unalloyed  and  idiotic  delight  began  to  creep 
over  Hummil's  face.     'I  think,'  he  whispered, — 'I  think 
I'm  going  off  now.     Gad!  it's  positively  heavenly!     Spur- 
stow,  you    must  give   me    that  case   to   keep;   you — 
The  voice  ceased  as  the  head  fell  back. 

'Not  for  a  good  deal,'  said  Spurstow  to  the  uncon- 
scious form.  'And  now,  my  friend,  sleeplessness  of  your 
kind  being  very  apt  to  relax  the  moral  fibre  in  little 
matters  of  life  and  death,  I'll  just  take  the  liberty  of 
spiking  your  guns.' 

He  paddled  into  Hummil's  saddle-room  in  his  bare 
feet  and  uncased  a  twelve-bore  rifle,  an  express,  and  a 
revolver.  Of  the  first  he  unscrewed  the  nipples  and 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  257 

hid  them  in  the  bottom  of  a  saddlery-case;  of  the  second 
he  abstracted  the  lever,  kicking  it  behind  a  big  ward- 
robe. The  third  he  merely  opened,  and  knocked  the 
doll-head  bolt  of  the  grip  up  with  the  heel  of  a  riding- 
boot. 

'  That's  settled/  he  said,  as  he  shook  the  sweat  off  his 
hands.  'These  little  precautions  will  at  least  give  you 
time  to  turn.  You  have  too  much  sympathy  with  gun- 
room accidents.' 

And  as  he  rose  from  his  knees,  the  thick  muffled  voice 
of  Hummil  cried  in  the  doorway,  'You  fool! ' 

Such  tones  they  use  who  speak  in  the  lucid  intervals  of 
delirium  to  their  friends  a  little  before  they  die. 

Spurstow  started,  dropping  the  pistol.  Hummil  stood 
in  the  doorway,  rocking  with  helpless  laughter. 

'  That  was  awf  ly  good  of  you,  I'm  sure,'  he  said,  very 
slowly,  feeling  for  his  words.  '  I  don't  intend  to  go  out  by 
my  own  hand  at  present.  I  say,  Spurstow,  that  stuff  won't 
work.  What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?'  And  panic 
terror  stood  in  his  eyes. 

'Lie  down  and  give  it  a  chance.     Lie  down  at  once.' 

'I  daren't.  It  will  only  take  me  half-way  again,  and  I 
shan't  be  able  to  get  away  this  time.  Do  you  know  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  come  out  just  now  ?  Generally  I  am  as 
quick  as  lightning;  but  you  had  clogged  my  feet.  I  was 
nearly  caught.' 

'Oh  yes,  I  understand.     Go  and  lie  down.' 

'No,  it  isn't  delirium;  but  it  was  an  awfully  mean  trick 
to  play  on  me.  Do  you  know  I  might  have  died?' 

As  a  sponge  rubs  a  slate  clean,  so  some  power  unknown 
to  Spurstow  had  wiped  out  of  Hummil's  face  all  that 
stamped  it  for  the  face  of  a  man,  and  he  stood  at  the 
doorway  in  the  expression  of  his  lost  innocence.  He  had 
slept  back  into  terrified  childhood. 


258  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'Is  he  going  to  die  on  the  spot?'  thought  Spurstow. 
Then,  aloud,  'All  right,  rny  son.  Come  back  to  bed,  and 
tell  me  all  about  it.  You  couldn't  sleep;  but  what  was  all 
the  rest  of  the  nonsense  ? ' 

'A  place, — a  place  down  there/  said  Hummil,  with 
simple  sincerity.  The  drug  was  acting  on  him  by  waves, 
and  he  was  flung  from  the  fear  of  a  strong  man  to  the 
fright  of  a  child  as  his  nerves  gathered  sense  or  were 
dulled. 

*  Good  God !  I've  been  afraid  of  it  for  months  past, 
Spurstow.  It  has  made  every  night  hell  to  me;  and  yet 
I'm  not  conscious  of  having  done  anything  wrong/ 

'  Be  still,  and  I'll  give  yon  another  dose.  We'll  stop 
your  nightmares,  you  unutterable  idiot!' 

'  Yes,  but  you  must  give  me  so  much  that  I  can't  get 
away.  You  must  make  me  quite  sleepy, — not  just  a  little 
sleepy.  It's  so  hard  to  run  then.' 

'I  know  it;  I  know  it.  I've  felt  it  myself.  The  symp- 
toms are  exactly  as  you  describe.' 

'Oh,  don't  laugh  at  me,  confound  you!  Before  this 
awful  sleeplessness  came  to  me  I've  tried  to  rest  on  my 
elbow  and  put  a  spur  in  the  bed  to  sting  me  when  I  fell 
back.  Look ! ' 

'By  Jove!  the  man  has  been  rowelled  like  a  horse! 
Ridden  by  the  nightmare  with  a  vengeance!  And  we  all 
thought  him  sensible  enough.  Heaven  send  us  under- 
standing! You  like  to  talk,  don't  you?' 

'Yes,  sometimes.  Not  when  I'm  frightened.  TJien  I 
want  to  run.  Don't  you  ? ' 

'Always.  Before  I  give  you  your  second  dose  try  to 
tell  me  exactly  what  your  trouble  is/ 

Hummil  spoke  in  broken  whispers  for  nearly  ten 
minutes,  whilst  Spurstow  looked  into  the  pupils  of  his 
eyes  and  passed  his  hand  before  them  once  or  twice. 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  259 

At  the  end  of  the  narrative  the  silver  cigarette-case 
was  produced,  and  the  last  words  that  Hummil  said  as  he 
fell  back  for  the  second  time  were,  'Put  me  quite  to 
sleep;  for  if  I'm  caught  I  die, — I  die!  ' 

'Yes,  yes;  we  all  do  that  sooner  or  later, — thank 
Heaven  who  has  set  a  term  to  our  miseries,'  said  Spur- 
stow,  settling  the  cushions  under  the  head.  '  It  occurs 
to  me  that  unless  I  drink  something  I  shall  go  out 
before  my  time.  I've  stopped  sweating,  and — I  wear 
a  seventeen  -  inch  collar.'  He  bre\ved  himself  scald- 
ing hot  tea,  which  is  an  excellent  remedy  against  heat- 
apoplexy  if  you  take  three  or  four  cups  of  it  in  time. 
Then  he  watched  the  sleeper. 

'A  blind  face  that  cries  and  can't  wipe  its  eyes, 
a  blind  face  that  chases  him  down  corridors!  H'm  ! 
Decidedly,  Hummil  ought  to  go  on  leave  as  soon  as 
possible;  and,  sane  or  otherwise,  he  undoubtedly  did 
rowel  himself  most  cruelly.  Well,  Heaven  send  us 
understanding  ! ' 

At  mid-day  Hummil  rose,  with  an  evil  taste  in  his 
mouth,  but  an  unclouded  eye  and  a  joyful  heart. 

*  I  was  pretty  bad  last  night,  wasn't  I  ? '  said  he. 

'I  have  seen  healthier  men.  You  must  have  had  a 
touch  of  the  sun.  Look  here:  if  I  write  you  a  swingeing 
medical  certificate,  will  you  apply  for  leave  on  the  spot?' 

'No.' 

'  Why  not  ?    You  want  it.' 

*  Yes,  but  I   can   hold   on   till   the  weather's  a  little 
cooler.' 

'  Why  should  you,  if  you  can  get  relieved  on  the  spot  ?' 
'Burkett  is  the  only  man  who  could  be  sent;  and  he's 

a  born  fool.' 

'  Oh,   never    mind    about    the    line.     You    aren't   so 

important  as  all  that.     Wire  for  leave,  if  necessary.' 


2GO  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Hummil  looked  very  uncomfortable. 

'I  can  hold  on  till  the  Rains,'  he  said  evasively. 

'You  can't.     Wire  to  headquarters  for  Burkett/ 

'  I  won't.  If  you  want  to  know  why,  particularly, 
Burkett  is  married,  and  his  wife's  just  had  a  kid,  and 
she's  up  at  Simla,  in  the  cool,  and  Burkett  has  a  very 
nice  billet  that  takes  him  into  Simla  from  Saturday  to 
Monday.  That  little  woman  isn't  at  all  well.  If  Burkett 
was  transferred  she'd  try  to  follow  him.  If  she  left  the 
baby  behind  she'd  fret  herself  to  death.  If  she  came, 
— and  Burkett's  one  of  those  selfish  little  beasts  who 
are  always  talking  about  a  wife's  place  being  with  her 
husband, — she'd  die.  It's  murder  to  bring  a  woman  here 
just  now.  Burkett  hasn't  the  physique  of  a  rat.  If  he 
came  here  he'd  go  out;  and  I  know  she  hasn't  any 
money,  and  I'm  pretty  sure  she'd  go  out  too.  I'm  salted 
in  a  sort  of  way,  and  I'm  not  married.  Wait  till  the 
Rains,  and  then  Burkett  can  get  thin  down  here.  It'll  do 
him  heaps  of  good/ 

'Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  intend  to  face — what 
you  have  faced,  till  the  Rains  break  ? ' 

'Oh,  it  won't  be  so  bad,  now  you've  shown  me  a  way 
out  of  it.  I  can  always  wire  to  you.  Besides,  now  I've 
once  got  into  the  way  of  sleeping,  it'll  be  all  right.  Any- 
how, I  shan't  put  in  for  leave.  That's  the  long  and  the 
short  of  it.' 

'My  great  Scott!  I  thought  all  that  sort  of  thing  was 
dead  and  done  with/ 

'Bosh!  You'd  do  the  same  yourself.  I  feel  a  new 
man,  thanks  to  that  cigarette-case.  You're  going  over 
to  camp  now,  aren't  you  ? ' 

'  Y«s;  but  I'll  try  to  look  you  up  every  other  day,if  I  can/ 

'I'm  not  bad  enough  for  that.  I  don't  want  you  to 
bother.  Give  the  coolies  gin  and  ketchup.' 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE       261 

'Then  you  feel  all  right?' 

'  Fit  to  fight  for  my  life,  but  not  to  stand  out  in  the 
sun  talking  to  you.  Go  along,  old  man,  and  bless  you  ! ' 

Hummil  turned  on  his  heel  to  face  the  echoing  deso- 
lation of  his  bungalow,  and  the  first  thing  he  saw  stand- 
ing in  the  verandah  was  the  figure  of  himself.  He  had 
met  a  similar  apparition  once  before,  when  he  was  suffer- 
ing from  overwork  and  the  strain  of  the  hot  weather. 

'  This  is  bad, — already,'  he  said,  rubbing  his  eyes.  '  If 
the  thing  slides  away  from  me  all  in  one  piece,  like  a 
ghost,  I  shall  know  it  is  only  my  eyes  and  stomach  that 
are  out  of  order.  If  it  walks — my  head  is  going.' 

He  approached  the  figure,  which  naturally  kept  at  an 
unvarying  distance  from  him,  as  is  the  use  of  all  spectres 
that  are  born  of  overwork.  It  slid  through  the  house 
and  dissolved  into  swimming  specks  within  the  eyeball 
as  soon  as  it  reached  the  burning  light  of  the  garden. 
Hummil  went  about  his  business  till  even.  "When  he 
came  in  to  dinner  he  found  himself  sitting  at  the 
table.  The  vision  rose  and  walked  out  hastily.  Ex- 
cept that  it  cast  no  shadow  it  was  in  all  respects 
real. 

No  living  man  knows  what  that  week  held  for 
Hummil.  An  increase  of  the  epidemic  kept  Spurstow 
in  camp  among  the  coolies,  and  all  he  could  do  was 
to  telegraph  to  Mottram,  bidding  him  go  to  the 
bungalow  and  sleep  there.  But  Mottram  was  forty 
miles  away  from  the  nearest  telegraph,  and  knew  nothing 
of  anything  save  the  needs  of  the  survey  till  he  met, 
early  on  Sunday  morning,  Lowndes  and  Spurstow  heading 
towards  Ilummirs  for  the  weekly  gathering. 

'  Hope  the  poor  chap's  in  a  better  temper,'  said  the 
former,  swinging  himself  off  his  horse  at  the  door.  'I 
suppose  he  isn't  up  yet.' 


2G2  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  I'll  just  have  a  look  at  him,'  said  the  doctor.  '  If 
he's  asleep  there's  no  need  to  wake  him.' 

And  an  instant  later,  by  the  tone  of  Spurstow's  voice 
calling  upon  them  to  enter,  the  men  knew  what  had 
happened.  There  was  no  need  to  wake  him. 

The  punkah  was  still  being  pulled  over  the  bed,  but 
Hummil  had  departed  this  life  at  least  three  hours. 

The  body  lay  on  its  back,  hands  clinched  by  the  side, 
as  Spurstow  had  seen  it  lying  seven  nights  previously. 
In  the  staring  eyes  was  written  terror  beyond  the  ex- 
pression of  any  pen. 

Mottram,  who  had  entered  behind  Lowndes,  bent  over 
the  dead  and  touched  the  forehead  lightly  with  his  lips. 
'  Oh,  you  lucky,  lucky  devil! '  he  whispered. 

But  Lowndes  had  seen  the  eyes,  and  withdrew 
shuddering  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

'Poor  chap!  poor  old  chap!  And  the  last  time  I  met 
him  I  was  angry.  Spurstow,  we  should  have  watched 
him.  Has  he ? ' 

Deftly  Spurstow  continued  his  investigations,  ending 
by  a  search  round  the  room. 

'  No,  he  hasn't,'  he  snapped.  '  There's  no  trace  of 
anything.  Call  the  servants/ 

They  came,  eight  or  ten  of  them,  whispering  and 
peering  over  each  other's  shoulders. 

'  When  did  your  Sahib  go  to  bed  ?  '  said  Spurstow. 

'At  eleven  or  ten,  we  think,'  said  Hummil's  personal 
servant. 

'  He  was  well  then  ?    But  how  should  you  know?' 

'  He  was  not  ill,  as  far  as  our  comprehension  extended. 
But  he  had  slept  very  little  for  three  nights.  This  I 
know,  because  I  saw  him  walking  much,  and  specially  in 
the  heart  of  the  night.' 

As  Spurstow  was  arranging  the  sheet,  a  big  straight- 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  263 

necked  hunting-spur  tumbled  on  the  ground.  The  doctor 
groaned.  The  personal  servant  peeped  at  the  body. 

'What  do  you  think,  Chuma?'  said  Spurstow,  catch- 
ing the  look  on  the  dark  face. 

'  Heaven-born,  in  my  poor  opinion,  this  that  was  my 
master  has  descended  into  the  Dark  Places,  and  there  has 
been  caught  because  he  was  not  able  to  escape  with 
sufficient  speed.  We  have  the  spur  for  evidence  that  he 
fought  with  Fear.  Thus  have  I  seen  men  of  my  race  do 
with  thorns  when  a  spell  was  laid  upon  them  to  overtake 
them  in  their  sleeping  hours  and  they  dared  not  sleep.' 

'Chuma,  you're  a  mud-head.  Go  out  and  prepare 
seals  to  be  set  on  the  Sahib's  property/ 

'  God  has  made  the  Heaven-born.  God  has  made  me. 
Who  are  we,  to  inquire  into  the  dispensations  of  God  ? 
I  will  bid  the  other  servants  hold  aloof  while  )7ou  are 
reckoning  the  tale  of  the  Sahib's  property.  They  are  all 
thieves,  and  would  steal.' 

'  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  he  died  from — oh,  any- 
thing; stoppage  of  the  heart's  action,  heat-apoplexy, 
or  some  other  visitation/  said  Spurstow  to  his  com- 
panions. 'We  must  make  an  inventory  of  his  effects, 
and  so  on.' 

'He  was  scared  to  death,'  insisted  Lowndes.  'Look 
at  those  eyes!  For  pity's  sake  don't  let  him  be  buried 
with  them  open!' 

'Whatever  it  was,  he's  clear  of  all  the  trouble  now,' 
said  Mottram  softly. 

Spurstow  was  peering  into  the  open  eyes. 

'  Come  here,'  said  he.     '  Can  you  see  anything  there  ?  ' 

'  I  can't  face  it! '  whimpered  Lowndes.  '  Cover  up  the 
face!  Is  there  any  fear  on  earth  that  can  turn  a  man 
into  that  likeness?  It's  ghastly.  Oh,  Spurstow,  cover 
it  up ! ' 


264  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

*  No  fear — on  earth,'  said  Spurstow.  Mottram  leaned 
over  his  shoulder  and  looked  intently. 

'I  see  nothing  except  some  gray  blurs  in  the  pupil. 
There  can  be  nothing  there,  you  know.' 

'Even  so.  Well,  let's  think.  It'll  take  half  a  day 
to  knock  up  any  sort  of  coffin;  and  he  must  have  died 
at  midnight.  Lowndes,  old  man,  go  out  and  tell  the 
coolies  to  break  ground  next  to  Jevins's  grave.  Mottram, 
go  round  the  house  with  Chuma  and  see  that  the  seals 
are  put  on  things.  Send  a  couple  of  men  to  me  here, 
and  I'll  arrange/ 

The  strong-armed  servants  when  they  returned  to 
their  own  kind  told  a  strange  story  of  the  doctor  Sahib 
vainly  trying  to  call  their  master  back  to  life  by  magic 
arts, — to  wit,  the  holding  of  a  little  green  box  that 
clicked  to  each  of  the  dead  man's  eyes,  and  of  a  be- 
wildered muttering  on  the  part  of  the  doctor  Sahib,  who 
took  the  little  green  box  away  with  him. 

The  resonant  hammering  of  a  coffin-lid  is  no  pleasant 
thing  to  hear,  but  those  who  have  experience  main- 
tain that  much  more  terrible  is  the  soft  swish  of 
the  bed-linen,  the  reeving  and  unreeving  of  the  bed- 
tapes,  when  he  who  has  fallen  by  the  roadside  is 
apparelled  for  burial,  sinking  gradually  as  the  tapes 
are  tied  over,  till  the  swaddled  shape  touches  the  floor 
and  there  is  no  protest  against  the  indignity  of  hasty 
disposal. 

At  the  last  moment  Lowndes  was  seized  with  scruples 
of  conscience.  'Ought  you  to  read  the  service, — from 
beginning  to  end  ? '  said  he  to  Spurstow. 

'I  intend  to.  You're  my  senior  as  a  civilian.  You 
can  take  it  if  you  like.' 

'I  didn't  mean  that  for  a  moment.  I  only  thought  if 
we  could  get  a  chaplain  from  somewhere, — I'm  willing  to 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  PASSAGE  265 

ride  anywhere, — and  give  poor  Hum  mil  a  better  chance. 
That's  all.' 

'Bosh!'  said  Spurstow,  as  he  framed  his  lips  to  the 
tremendous  words  that  stand  at  the  he<>d  of  the  burial 
service. 

After  breakfast  they  smoked  a  pipe  in  silence  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead.  Then  Spurstow  said  absently — 

'  'Tisn't  in  medical  science.' 

'What?' 

'Things  in  a  dead  man's  eye.' 

'For  goodness'  sake  leave  that  horror  alone!'  said 
Lowndes.  'I've  seen  a  native  die  of  pure  fright  when  a 
tiger  chivied  him.  I  know  what  killed  Hummil.' 

O 

'The  deuce  you  do!  I'm  going  to  try  to  see.'  And 
the  doctor  retreated  into  the  bath-room  with  a  Kodak 
camera.  After  a  few  minutes  there  was  the  sound  of 
something  being  hammered  to  pieces,  and  he  emerged, 
very  white  indeed. 

'  Have  you  got  a  picture  ?'  said  Mottram.  '  What  does 
the  thing  look  like  ?  ' 

'  It  was  impossible,  of  course.  You  needn't  look, 
Mottram.  I've  torn  up  the  films.  There  was  nothing 
there.  It  was  impossible.' 

'  That,'  said  Lowndes,  very  distinctly,  watching  the 
shaking  hand  striving  to  relight  the  pipe,  '  is  a  damned 
lie.' 

Mottram  laughed  uneasily.  'Spurstow's  right.'  he 
said.  'We're  all  in  such  a  state  now  that  we'd  believe 
anything.  For  pity's  sake  let's  try  to  be  rational.' 

There  was  no  further  speech  for  a  long  time.  The 
hot  wind  whistled  without,  and  the  dry  trees  sobbed. 
Presently  the  daily  train,  winking  brass,  burnished  steel, 
and  spouting  steam,  pulled  up  panting  in  the  intense 


2C6  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

glare.  '  We'd  better  go  on  on  thiit,'  said  Spurs  tow. 
'  Go  back  to  work.  I've  written  my  certificate.  We 
can't  do  any  more  good  here,  and  work  '11  keep  our  wits 
together.  Come  on/ 

No  one  moved.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  face  railway 
journeys  at  mid-day  in  June.  Spurstow  gathered  up  his 
hat  and  whip,  and,  turning  in  the  doorway,  said — 

•  There  may  be  Heaven, — there  must  be  Hell. 
Meantime,  there  is  our  life  here.     We-ell?' 

Neither  Mottram  nor  Lowudes  had  any  answer  to  the 
question. 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVEKICKS 

f    Causing    ~) 


Conspiring 


in  forces 


8ec  7"  I  with  other  la  mutiQy  J   belonging- 
1  persons  to  !   sedition  '      to  Her 


Regular  forces, 
Reserve  forces, 
Auxiliary  forces, 


x  '      I  persons  to  i 

I      cause      J  I  Ma3esty's  Navy. 

WHEN"  three  obscure  gentlemen  in  San  Francisco  argued 
on  insufficient  premises  they  condemned  a  fellow-creature 
to  a  most  unpleasant  death  in  a  far  country,  which  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  United  States.  They 
foregathered  at  the  top  of  a  tenement-house  in  Tehama 
Street,  an  unsavoury  quarter  of  the  city,  and,  there  calling 
for  certain  drinks,  they  conspired  because  they  were  con- 
spirators by  trade,  officially  known  as  the  Third  Three  of 
the  I.A.A. — an  institution  for  the  propagation  of  pure 
light,  not  to  be  confounded  with  any  others,  though  it  is 
affiliated  to  many.  The  Second  Three  live  in  Montreal, 
and  work  among  the  poor  there ;  the  First  Three  have 
their  home  in  New  York,  not  far  from  Castle  Garden, 
and  write  regularly  once  a  week  to  a  small  house  near 
one  of  the  big  hotels  at  Boulogne.  What  happens  after 
that,  a  particular  section  of  Scotland  Yard  knows  too 
well,  and  laughs  at.  A  conspirator  detests  ridicule. 
More  men  have  been  stabbed  with  Lucrezia  Borgia  dag- 
gers and  dropped  into  the  Thames  for  laughing  at  Head 
Centres  and  Triangles  than  for  betraying  secrets  ;  for 
this  is  human  nature. 


268  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

The  Third  Three  conspired  over  whisky  cocktails 
and  a  clean  sheet  of  notepaper  against  the  British  Empire 
and  all  that  lay  therein.  This  work  is  very  like  what 
men  without  discernment  cull  politics  before  a  general 
election.  You  pick  out  and  discuss,  in  the  company  of 
congenial  friends,  all  the  weak  points  in  your  opponents' 
organisation,  and  unconsciously  dwell  upon  and  exagger- 
ate all  their  mishaps,  till  it  seems  to  you  a  miracle  that 
the  hated  party  holds  together  for  an  hour. 

'Our  principle  is  not  so  much  active  demonstration — 
that  we  leave  to  others — as  passive  embarrassment,  to 
weaken  and  unnerve,' said  the  first  man.  '  Wherever  an 
organisation  is  crippled,  wherever  a  confusion  is  thrown 
into  any  branch  of  any  department,  we  gain  a  step  for 
those  who  take  on  the  work  ;  we  are  but  the  forerunners.' 
He  was  a  German  enthusiast,  and  editor  of  a  newspaper, 
from  whose  leading  articles  he  quoted  frequently. 

'That  cursed  Empire  makes  so  many  blunders  of  her 
own  that  unless  we  doubled  the  year's  average  I  guess 
it  wouldn't  strike  her  anything  special  had  occurred,' 
said  the  second  man.  '  Are  you  prepared  to  say  that  all 
our  resources  are  equal  to  blowing  off  the  muzzle  of  a 
hundred-ton  gun  or  spiking  a  ten-thousand-ton  ship  on 
a  plain  rock  in  clear  daylight  ?  They  can  beat  us  at  our 
own  game.  'Better  join  hands  with  the  practical  branches  ; 
we're  in  funds  now.  Try  a  direct  scare  in  a  crowded 
street.  They  value  their  greasy  hides.'  He  was  the 
drag  upon  the  wheel,  and  an  Americanised  Irishman  of 
the  second  generation,  despising  his  own  race  and  hating 
the  other.  He  had  learned  caution. 

The  third  man  drank  his  cocktail  and  spoke  no  word. 
He  was  the  strategist,  but  unfortunately  his  knowledge 
of  life  was  limited.  He  picked  a  letter  from  his  breast- 
pocket and  threw  it  across  the  table.  That  epistle  to  the 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  269 

heathen  contained  some  very  concise  directions  from  the 
First  Three  in  New  York.     It  said— 

'  The  boom  in  black  iron  has  already  affected  the  eastern 
markets,  where  our  agents  have  been  forcing  doivn  the 
English-held  stock  among  the  smaller  buyers  who  watch  the 
turn  of  shares.  Any  immediate  operations,  such  as  western 
bears,  would  increase  their  willingness  to  unload.  This, 
hoivever,  cannot  be  expected  till  they  see  clearly  that  foreign 
ironmasters  are  willing  to  co-operate.  Mulcahy  should 
be  dispatched  to  feel  the  pulse  of  the  market,  and  act  accord- 
ingly. Mavericks  are  at  present  the  best  for  our  purpose. 

—P.D.Q: 

As  a  message  referring  to  an  iron  crisis  in  Penn- 
sylvania, it  was  interesting,  if  not  lucid.  As  a,  new 
departure  in  organised  attack  on  an  outlying  English 
dependency,  it  was  more  than  interesting. 

The  second  man  read  it  through  and  murmured — 

'Already?  Surely  they  are  in  too  great  a  hurry.  All 
that  Dhulip  Singh  could  do  in  India  he  has  done,  down 
to  the  distribution  of  his  photographs  among  the  peasantry. 
Ho!  Ho!  The  Paris  firm  arranged  that,  and  he  has  no 
substantial  money  backing  from  the  Other  Power.  Even 
our  agents  in  India  know  he  hasn't.  What  is  the  use 
of  our  organisation  wasting  men  on  work  that  is  already 
done?  Of  course  the  Irish  regiments  in  India  are  half 
mutinous  as  they  stand.' 

This  shows  how  near  a  lie  may  come  to  the  truth. 
An  Irish  regiment,  for  just  so  long  as  it  stands  still,  is 
generally  a  hard  handful  to  control,  being  reckless  and 
rough.  When,  however,  it  is  moved  in  the  direction  of 
musketry-firing,  it  becomes  strangely  and  uupatriotically 
content  with  its  lot.  It  has  even  been  heard  to  cheer  the 
Queen  with  enthusiasm  on  those  occasions. 

But  the  notion  of  tampering  with  the  army  was,  from 


270  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

the  point  of  view  of  Tehama  Street,  un  altogether  sound 
one.  There  is  no  shadow  of  stability  in  the  policy  of 
an  English  Government,  and  the  most  sacred  oaths  of 
England  would,  even  if  engrossed  on  vellum,  find  very  few 
buyers  among  colonies  and  dependencies  that  have  suffered 
from  vain  beliefs.  But  there  remains  to  England  always 
her  army.  That  cannot  change  except  in  the  matter  of 
uniform  and  equipment.  The  officers  may  write  to  the 
papers  demanding  the  heads  of  the  Horse  Guards  in 
default  of  cleaner  redress  for  grievances  ;  the  men  may 
break  loose  across  a  country  town  and  seriously  startle 
the  publicans  ;  but  neither  officers  nor  men  have  it  in 
their  composition  to  mutiny  after  the  continental  manner. 
The  English  people,  when  they  trouble  to  think  about 
the  army  at  all,  are,  and  with  justice,  absolutely  assured 
that  it  is  absolutely  trustworthy.  Imagine  for  a  moment 
their  emotions  on  realising  that  such  and  such  a  regiment 
was  in  open  revolt  from  causes  directly  due  to  England's 
management  of  Ireland.  They  would  probably  send  the 
regiment  to  the  polls  forthwith  and  examine  their  own 
consciences  as  to  their  duty  to  Erin  ;  but  they  would 
never  be  easy  any  more.  And  it  was  this  vague,  unhappy 
mistrust  that  the  I. A. A.  were  labouring  to  produce. 

'Sheer  waste  of  breath,'  said  the  second  man  after 
a  pause  in  the  council,  '  I  don't  see  the  use  of  tampering 
with  their  fool-army,  but  it  has  been  tried  before  and 
we  must  try  it  again.  It  looks  well  in  the  reports. 
If  we  send  one  man  from  here  you  may  bet  your  life 
that  other  men  are  going  too.  Order  up  Mulcahy.' 

They  ordered  him  up — a  slim,  slight,  dark-haired 
young  man,  devoured  with  that  blind  rancorous  hatred 
of  England  that  only  reaches  its  full  growth  across  the 
Atlantic.  He  had  sucked  it  from  his  mother's  breast  in 
the  little  cabin  at  the  back  of  the  northern  avenues  of 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS  271 

New  York ;  he  had  been  taught  his  rights  and  his 
wrongs,  in  German  and  Irish,  on  the  canal  fronts  of 
Chicago  ;  and  San  Francisco  held  men  who  told  him 
strange  and  awful  things  of  the  great  blind  power  over 
the  seas.  Once,  when  business  took  him  across  the 
Atlantic,  he  had  served  in  an  English  regiment,  and  being 
insubordinate  had  suffered  extremely.  He  drew  all  his 
ideas  of  England  that  were  not  bred  by  the  cheaper 
patriotic  prints  from  one  iron-fisted  colonel  and  an  un-1 
bending  adjutant.  He  would  go  to  the  mines  if  need  be 
to  teach  his  gospel.  And  he  went  as  his  instructions 
advised  p.d.q. — which  means  'with  speed' — to  introduce 
embarrassment  into  an  Irish  regiment,  '  already  half- 
mutinous,  quartered  among  Sikh  peasantry,  all  wearing 
miniatures  of  His  Highness  Dhulip  Singh,  Maharaja  of 
the  Punjab,  next  their  hearts,  and  all  eagerly  expecting 
his  arrival.'  Other  information  equally  valuable  was 
given  him  by  his  masters.  He  was  to  be  cautious,  but 
never  to  grudge  expense  in  winning  the  hearts  of  the  men 
in  the  regiment.  His  mother  in  New  York  would  supply 
funds,  and  he  was  to  write  to  her  once  a  month.  Life 
is  pleasant  for  a  man  who  has  a  mother  in  New  York 
to  send  him  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  over  and  above 
his  regimental  pay. 

In  process  of  time,  thanks  to  his  intimate  knowledge 
of  drill  and  musketry  exercise,  the  excellent  Mulcahy, 
wearing  the  corporal's  stripe,  went  out  in  a  troopship  and 
joined  Her  Majesty's  Royal  Loyal  Musketeers,  commonly 
known  as  the  '  Mavericks,'  because  they  were  masterless 
and  unbrauded  cattle — sons  of  small  farmers  in  County 
Clare,  shoeless  vagabonds  of  Kerry,  herders  of  Ballyvegan, 
much  wanted  'moonlighters'  from  the  bare  rainy  head- 
lands of  the  south  coast,  officered  by  O'Mores,  Bradys, 
Hills,  Kilreas,  and  the  like.  Never  to  outward  seeming 


272  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

M'as  there  more  promising  material  to  work  on.  The  First 
Three  had  chosen  their  regiment  well.  It  feared  nothing 
that  moved  or  talked  save  the  colonel  and  the  regimental 
Roman  Catholic  chaplain,  the  fat  Father  Dennis,  who 
held  the  keys  of  heaven  and  hell,  and  blared  like  an 
angry  bull  when  he  desired  to  be  convincing.  Him 
also  it  loved  because  on  occasions  of  stress  he  was 
used  to  tuck  up  his  cassock  and  charge  with  the  rest 
into  the  merriest  of  the  fray,  where  he  always  found, 
good  man,  that  the  saints  sent  him  a  revolver  when 
there  was  a  fallen  private  to  be  protected,  or  —  but 
this  came  as  an  afterthought — his  own  gray  head  to  be 
guarded. 

Cautiously  as  he  had  been  instructed,  tenderly  and 
with  much  beer,  Mulcahy  opened  his  projects  to  such  as 
he  deemed  fittest  to  listen.  And  these  were,  one  and 
all,  of  that  quaint,  crooked,  sweet,  profoundly  irresponsible 
and  profoundly  lovable  race  that  fight  like  fiends,  argue 
like  children,  reason  like  women,  obey  like  men,  and  jest 
like  their  own  goblins  of  the  rath  through  rebellion, 
loyalty,  want,  woe,  or  war.  The  underground  work  of  a 
conspiracy  is  always  dull  and  very  much  the  same  the 
world  over.  At  the  end  of  six  months — the  seed  always 
falling  on  good  ground — Mulcahy  spoke  almost  explicitly, 
hinting  darkly  in  the  approved  fashion  at  dread  powers 
behind  him,  and  advising  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
mutiny.  Were  they  not  dogs,  evilly  treated?  had  they 
not  all  their  own  and  their  national  revenges  to  satisfy? 
Who  in  these  days  would  do  aught  to  nine  hundred  men  in 
rebellion?  Who,  again,  could  stay  them  if  they  broke  for 
the  sea,  licking  up  on  their  way  other  regiments  only  too 
anxious  to  join  ?  And  afterwards  .  .  .  here  followed 
windy  promises  of  gold  and  preferment,  office,  and  honour, 
ever  dear  to  a  certain  type  of  Irishman. 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS  273 

As  he  finished  his  speech,  in  the  dusk  of  a  twilight,  to 
his  chosen  associates,  there  was  a  sound  of  a  rapidly 
unslung  belt  behind  him.  The  arm  of  one  Dan  Grady 
flew  out  in  Jhe  gloom  and  arrested  something.  Then 
said  Dan — 

'Mulcahy,  you're  a  great  man,  an'  you  do  credit  to 
whoever  sent  you.  Walk  about  a  bit  while  we  think  of 
it.'  Mulcahy  departed  elate.  He  knew  his  words  would 
sink  deep. 

'  Why  the  triple-dashed  asterisks  did  ye  not  let  me 
belt  him  ? '  grunted  a  voice. 

'  Because  I'm  not  a  fat-headed  fool.  Boys,  'tis  what 
he's  been  driving  at  these  six  months — our  superior  corpril 
with  his  education  and  his  copies  of  the  Irish  papers  and 
his  everlasting  beer.  He's  been  sent  for  the  purpose  and 
that's  where  the  money  comes  from.  Can  ye  not  see? 
That  man's  a  gold-mine,  which  Horse  Egan  here  would 
have  destroyed  with  a  belt-buckle.  It  would  be  throwing 
away  the  gifts  of  Providence  not  to  fall  in  with  his  little 
plans.  Of  coorse  we'll  mut'ny  till  all's  dry.  Shoot  the 
colonel  on  the  parade-ground,  massacree  the  company 
officers,  ransack  the  arsenal,  and  then — Boys,  did  he  tell 
you  what  next?  He  told  me  the  other  night  when  he 
was  beginning  to  talk  wild.  Then  we're  to  join  with  the 
niggers,  and  look  for  help  from  Dhulip  Singh  and  the 
Russians  ! ' 

*  And  spoil  the  best  campaign  that  ever  was  this  side 
of  Hell !  Danny,  I'd  have  lost  the  beer  to  ha'  given  him 
the  belting  he  requires.' 

'Oh,  let  him  go  this  awhile,  man  !  He's  got  no — no 
constructiveness,  but  that's  the  egg-meat  of  his  plan,  and 
you  must  understand  that  I'm  in  with  it,  an'  so  are  you. 
We'll  want  oceans  of  beer  to  convince  us — firmaments 
full.  We'll  give  him  talk  for  his  money,  and  one  by  one 


274  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

all  the  boys  Ml  come  in  and  he'll  have  a  nest  of  nine 
hundred  mutineers  to  squat  in  an'  give  drink  to/ 

'  What  makes  me  killing-mad  is  his  wanting  us  to  do 
what  the  niggers  did  thirty  years  gone.  That  an'  his  pig's 
cheek  in  saying  that  other  regiments  would  come  along,' 
said  a  Kerry  man. 

'  That's  not  so  bad  as  hintin'  we  should  loose  off  on  the 
colonel.' 

'  Colonel  be  sugared  !  I'd  as  soon  as  not  put  a  shot 
through  his  helmet  to  see  him  jump  and  clutch  his  old 
horse's  head.  But  Mulcahy  talks  o'  shootin'  our  comp'uy 
orf'cers  accidental.' 

*  He  said  that,  did  he  ?'  said  Horse  Egan. 

'  Somethin'  like  that,  anyways.  Can't  ye  fancy  ould 
Barber  Brady  wid  a  bullet  in  his  lungs,  coughin'  like  a 
sick  monkey,  an'  sayin',  "Bhoys,  I  do  not  mind  your 
gettin'  dhrunk,  but  you  must  hould  your  liquor  like  men. 
The  man  that  shot  me  is  dhrunk.  I'll  suspend  in- 
vestigations for  six  hours,  while  I  get  this  bullet  cut  out, 
an'  then "  ' 

'  An'  then,'  continued  Horse  Egan,  for  the  peppery 
Major's  peculiarities  of  speech  and  manner  were  as  well 
known  as  his  tanned  face  ;  *  "an'  then,  ye  dissolute,  half- 
baked,  putty-faced  scum  o'  Counemara,  if  I  find  a  man  so 
much  as  lookin'  confused,  begad,  I'll  coort-martial  the 
whole  company.  A  man  that  can't  get  over  his  liquor 
in  six  hours  is  not  fit  to  belong  to  the  Mavericks  ! " 

A  shout  of  laughter  bore  witness  to  the  truth  of  the 
sketch. 

'  It's  pretty  to  think  of/  said  the  Kerry  man  slowly. 
*  Mulcahy  would  have  us  do  all  the  devilmint,  and  get 
clear  himself,  someways.  He  wudn't  be  takin'  all  this 
fool's  throuble  in  shpoilin'  the  reputation  of  the  regi- 
ment  ' 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  275 

'  Reputation  of  your  grandmother's  pig  ! '  suid  Dan. 

'  Well,  an'  he  had  a  good  reputation  tu  ;  so  it's  all  right. 
Mulcahy  must  see  his  way  to  clear  out  behind  him,  or 
he'd  not  ha'  come  so  far,  talkin'  powers  of  darkness.' 

'  Did  you  hear  anything  of  a  regimental  court-martial 
among  the  Black  Boneens,  these  days?  Half  a  company 
of  'em  took  one  of  the  new  draft  an'  hanged  him  by  his 
arms  with  a  tent-rope  from  a  third  story  verandah. 
They  gave  no  reason  for  so  doin',  but  he  was  half  dead. 
I'm  thinking  that  the  Boneens  are  short-sighted.  It  was 
a  friend  of  Mulcahy's,  or  a  man  in  the  same  trade. 
They'd  a  deal  better  ha'  taken  his  beer,'  returned  Dan 
reflectively. 

'Better  still  ha'  handed  him  up  to  the  Colonel,'  said 
Horse  Eagan,  'onless — but  sure  the  news  wud  be  all  over 
the  counthry  an'  give  the  reg'ment  a  bad  name.' 

'An'  there'd  be  no  reward  for  that  man — he  but  went 
about  talkin','  said  the  Kerry  man  artlessly. 

'  You  speak  by  your  breed,'  said  Dan  with  a  laugh. 
'  There  was  never  a  Kerry  man  yet  that  wudn't  sell  his 
brother  for  a  pipe  o'  tobacco  an'  a  pat  on  the  back  from 
a  p'liceman.' 

'Praise  God  I'm  not  a  bloom  in*  Orangeman,' was  the 
answer. 

'  No,  nor  never  will  be,'  said  Dan.  '  They  breed  men 
in  Ulster.  Would  you  like  to  thry  the  taste  of  one  ?' 

The  Kerry  man  looked  and  longed,  but  forbore.  The 
odds  of  battle  were  too  great. 

'  Then  you'll  not  even  give  Mulcahy  a — :i  strike  for  his 
money,'  said  the  voice  of  Horse  Kgan,  who  regarded  what 
he  called  'trouble'  of  any  kind  as  the  pinnacle  of  felicity. 

Dan  answered  not  at  all,  but  crept  on  tip-toe,  with 
large  strides,  to  the  mess-room,  the  men  following.  The 
room  was  empty.  In  a  corner,  cased  like  the  King  of 


276  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

Dahomey's  state  umbrella,  stood  the  regimental  Colours. 
Dan  lifted  them  tenderly  and  unrolled  in  the  light  of  the 
candles  the  record  of  the  Mavericks — tattered,  worn,  and 
hacked.  The  white  satin  was  darkened  everywhere  with 
big  brown  stains,  the  gold  threads  on  the  crowned  harp 
were  frayed  and  discoloured,  and  the  Red  Bull,  the  totem 
of  the  Mavericks,  was  coffee-hued.  The  stiff,  embroidered 
folds,  whose  price  is  human  life,  rustled  down  slowly. 
The  Mavericks  keep  their  colours  long  and  guard  them 
very  sacredly. 

'Vittoria,  Salamanca,  Toulouse,  Waterloo,  Moodkee, 
Ferozshah,  an'  Sobraon — that  was  fought  close  next  door 
here,  against  the  very  beggars  he  wants  us  to  join.  In- 
kermann,  The  Alma,  Sebastopol !  What  are  those  little 
businesses  compared  to  the  campaigns  of  General  Mulcahy  ? 
The  Mut'ny,  think  o'  that  ;  the  Mutiny  an'  some  dirty 
little  matters  in  Afghanistan  ;  an'  for  that  an'  these  an' 
those' — Dan  pointed  to  the  names  of  glorious  battles — 
'  that  Yankee  man  with  the  partin'  in  his  hair  comes  an' 
says  as  easy  as  "have  a  drink."  .  .  .  Holy  Moses,  there's 
the  captain!' 

But  it  was  the  mess-sergeant  who  came  in  just  as  the 
men  clattered  out,  and  found  the  colours  uncased. 

From  that  day  dated  the  mutiny  of  the  Mavericks,  to 
the  joy  of  Mulcahy  and  the  pride  of  his  mother  in  New 
York — the  good  lady  who  sent  the  money  for  the  beer. 
Never,  so  far  as  words  went,  was  such  a  mutiny.  The 
conspirators,  led  by  Dan  Grady  and  Horse  Egan,  poured 
in  daily.  They  were  sound  men,  men  to  be  trusted,  and 
they  all  wanted  blood  ;  but  first  they  must  have  beer. 
They  cursed  the  Queen,  they  mourned  over  Ireland,  they 
suggested  hideous  plunder  of  the  Indian  country  side,  and 
then,  alas — some  of  the  younger  men  would  go  forth  and 
wallow  on  the  ground  in  spasms  of  wicked  laughter. 


THE  MUTINY  OP  THE  MAVERICKS  277 

The  genius  of  the  Irish  for  conspiracies  is  remarkable. 
None  the  less  they  would  swear  no  oaths  but  those  of 
their  own  making,  which  were  rare  and  curious,  and  they 
were  always  at  pains  to  impress  Mulcahy  with  the  risks 
they  ran.  Naturally  the  flood  of  beer  wrought  demoral- 
isation. But  Mulcahy  confused  the  causes  of  things,  and 
when  a  very  muzzy  Maverick  smote  a  sergeant  on  the  nose 
or  called  his  commanding  officer  a  bald-headed  old  lard- 
bladder  and  even  worse  names,  he  fancied  that  rebellion 
and  not  liquor  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  outbreak.  Other 
gentlemen  who  have  concerned  themselves  in  larger  con- 
spiracies have  made  the  same  error. 

The  hot  season,  in  which  they  protested  no  man  could 
rebel,  came  to  an  end,  and  Mulcahy  suggested  a  visible 
return  for  his  teachings.  As  to  the  actual  upshot  of  the 
mutiny  he  cared  nothing.  It  would  be  enough  if  the 
English,  infatuatedly  trusting  to  the  integrity  of  their 
army,  should  be  startled  with  news  of  an  Irish  regiment 
revolting  from  political  considerations.  His  persistent 
demands  would  have  ended,  at  Dan's  instigation,  in  a 
regimental  belting  which  in  all  probability  would  have 
killed  him  and  cut  off  the  supply  of  beer,  had  not  he  been 
sent  on  special  duty  some  fifty  miles  away  from  the  can- 
tonment to  cool  his  heels  in  a  mud  fort  and  dismount 
obsolete  artillery.  Then  the  colonel  of  the  Mavericks, 
reading  his  newspaper  diligently,  and  scenting  Frontier 
trouble  from  afar,  posted  to  the  army  headquarters  and 
pled  with  the  Commander-in-chief  for  certain  privileges, 
to  be  granted  under  certain  contingencies ;  which  con- 
tingencies came  about  only  a  week  later,  when  the  annual 
little  war  on  the  border  developed  itself  and  the  colonel 
returned  to  carry  the  good  news  to  the  Mavericks.  He 
held  the  promise  of  the  Chief  for  active  service,  and  the 
men  must  get  ready. 


278  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  Mulcahy,  an  uncon- 
sidered  corporal — yet  great  in  conspiracy — returned  to 
cantonments,  and  heard  sounds  of  strife  and  howlings 
from  afar  off.  The  mutiny  had  broken  out  and  the 
barracks  of  the  Mavericks  were  one  white -washed 
pandemonium.  A  private  tearing  through  the  barrack- 
square,  gasped  in  his  ear,  'Hervice!  Active  service.  It's 
a  burnin'  shame.'  Oh  joy,  the  Mavericks  had  risen  on 
the  eve  of  battle  !  They  would  not — noble  and  loyal 
eons  of  Ireland  —  serve  the  Queen  longer.  The  news 
would  flash  through  the  country  side  and  over  to  England, 
and  he — Mulcahy — the  trusted  of  the  Third  Three,  had 
brought  about  the  crash.  The  private  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  square  and  cursed  colonel,  regiment,  officers,  and 
doctor,  particularly  the  doctor,  by  his  gods.  An  orderly 
of  the  native  cavalry  regiment  clattered  through  the  mob 
of  soldiers,  lie  was  half  lifted,  half  dragged  from  his 
horse,  beaten  on  the  back  with  mighty  hand-claps  till 
his  eyes  watered,  and  called  all  manner  of  endearing 
names.  Yes,  the  Mavericks  had  fraternised  with  the 
native  troops.  Who  then  was  the  agent  among  the  latter 
that  had  blindly  wrought  with  Mulcahy  so  well? 

An  officer  ^lunk,  almost  ran,  from  the  mess  to  a  bar- 
rack. He  was  mobbed  by  the  infuriated  soldiery,  who 
closed  round  but  did  not  kill  him,  for  he  fought  his  way 
to  shelter,  flying  for  the  life.  Mulcahy  could  have  wept 
with  pure  joy  and  thankfulness.  The  very  prisoners  in 
the  guard-room  were  shaking  the  bars  of  their  cells  and 
howling  like  wild  beasts,  and  from  every  barrack  poured 
the  booming  as  of  a  big  war-drum. 

Mulcahy  hastened  to  his  own  barrack.  He  could 
hardly  hear  himself  speak.  Eighty  men  were  pounding 
with  fist  and  heel  the  tables  and  trestles — eighty  men, 
flushed  with  mutiny,  stripped  to  their  shirt  sleeves,  their 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  279 

knapsacks  half-packed  for  the  inarch  to  the  sea,  made  the 
two-inch  boards  thunder  again  as  they  chanted  to  a  tune 
that  Mulcahy  knew  well,  the  Sacred  War  Song  of  the 
Mavericks — 

Listen  in  the  north,  my  boys,  there's  trouble  on  the  wind  ; 
Trarnp  o'  Cossack  hooves  in  front,  gray  great-coats  behind, 
Trouble  on  the  Frontier  of  a  most  amazin'  kind, 
Trouble  on  the  waters  o'  the  Oxus! 

Then,  as  a  table  broke  under  the  furious  accompaniment — 

Hurrah!  hurrah!  it's  north  by  west  we  go; 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  the  chance  we  wanted  so; 
Let  'em  hear  the  chorus  from  Umballa  to  Moscow), 
As  we  go  marchin'  to  the  Kremliug. 

'Mother  of  all  the  saints  in  bliss  and  all  the  devils 
in  cinders,  where's  my  fine  new  sock  widout  the  heel  ? ' 
howled  Horse  Egan,  ransacking  everybody's  valise  but 
his  own.  He  was  engaged  in  making  up  deficiencies 
of  kit  preparatory  to  a  campaign,  and  in  that  work  lie 
steals  best  who  steals  last.  '  Ah,  Mulcahy,  you're  in  good 
time/  he  shouted.  '  We've  got  the  route,  and  we're  off 
on  Thursday  for  a  pic-nic  wid  the  Lancers  next  door/ 

An  ambulance  orderly  appeared  with  a  huge  basket 
full  of  lint  rolls,  provided  by  the  forethought  of  the 
Queen  for  such  as  might  need  them  later  on.  Horse 
Egan  unrolled  his  bandage,  and  flicked  it  under  Mulcahy's 
nose,  chanting — 

'  Sheepskin  an'  bees'  wax,  thunder,  pitch,  and  plaster, 
The  more  you  try  to  pull  it  off,  the  more  it  sticks  the  faster. 
As  I  was  goiu'  to  New  Orleans — 

'You  know  the  rest  of  it,  my  Irish  American-Jew 
boy.  By  gad,  ye  have  to  fight  for  the  Queen  in  the  inside 
av  a  fortnight,  my  darlinV 

A    roar    of    laughter    interrupted.      Mulcahy    looked 


280  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

vacantly  down  the  room.  Bid  a  boy  defy  his  father  when 
the  pantomime-cub  is  at  the  door;  or  a  girl  develop  a 
will  of  her  own  when  her  mother  is  putting  the  last 
touches  to  the  first  ball-dress;  but  do  not  ask  an  Irish 
regiment  to  embark  upon  mutiny  on  the  eve  of  a 
campaign;  when  it  has  fraternised  with  the  native 
regiment  that  accompanies  it,  and  driven  its  officers  into 
retirement  with  ten  thousand  clamorous  questions,  and 
the  prisoners  dance  for  joy,  and  the  sick  men  stand  in 
the  open,  calling  down  all  known  diseases  on  the  head  of 
the  doctor,  who  has  certified  that  they  are  "  medically 
unfit  for  active  service."  At  even  the  Mavericks  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  mutineers  by  one  so  unversed 
in  their  natures  as  Mulcahy.  At  dawn  a  girls'  school 
might  have  learned  deportment  from  them.  They  knew 
that  their  colonel's  hand  had  closed,  and  that  he  who  broke 
that  iron  discipline  would  not  go  to  the  front:  nothing 
in  the  world  will  persuade  one  of  our  soldiers  when  he  is 
ordered  to  the  north  on  the  smallest  of  affairs,  that  he  is 
not  immediately  going  gloriously  to  slay  Cossacks  and 
cook  his  kettles  in  the  palace  of  the  Czar.  A  few  of  the 
younger  men  mourned  for  Mulcahy's  beer,  because  the 
campaign  was  to  be  conducted  on  strict  temperance 
principles,  but  as  Dan  and  Horsj  Egan  said  sternly, 
'  We've  got  the  beer-man  with  us.  He  shall  drink  now 
on  his  own  hook.' 

Mulcahy  had  not  taken  into  account  the  possibility  of 
being  sent  on  active  service.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  not  go  under  any  circumstances,  but  fortune 
was  against  him. 

'  Sick — you  ? '  said  the  doctor,  who  had  served  an 
unholy  apprenticeship  to  his  trade  in  Tralee  poorhouses. 
'  You're  only  home-sick,  and  what  you  call  varicose  veins 
come  from  over-eating.  A  little  gentle  exercise  will  cure 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  281 

that.'  And  later,  '  Mulcahy,  my  man,  everybody  is 
allowed  to  apply  for  a  sick-certificate  once.  If  lie  tries  it 
twice  we  call  him  by  an  ugly  name.  Go  back  to  your 
duty,  and  let's  hear  no  more  of  your  diseases.' 

I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  Horse  Egan  enjoyed  the 
study  of  Mulcahy's  soul  in  those  days,  and  Dan  took  an 
equal  interest.  Together  they  would  communicate  to  their 
corporal  all  the  dark  lore  of  death  which  is  the  portion 
of  those  who  have  seen  men  die.  Egan  had  the  larger 
experience,  but  Dan  the  finer  imagination.  Mulcahy 
shivered  when  the  former  spoke  of  the  knife  as  an 
intimate  acquaintance,  or  the  latter  dwelt  with  loving 
particularity  on  the  fate  of  those  who,  wounded  and  help- 
less, had  been  overlooked  by  the  ambulances,  and  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Afghan  women-folk. 

Mulcahy  knew  that  the  mutiny,  for  the  present  at 
least,  was  dead  ;  knew,  too,  that  a  change  had  come 
over  Dan's  usually  respectful  attitude  towards  him,  and 
Horse  Egan's  laughter  and  frequent  allusions  to  abortive 
conspiracies  emphasised  all  that  the  conspirator  had 
guessed.  The  horrible  fascination  of  the  death-stories, 
however,  made  him  seek  the  men's  society.  He  learnt  much 
more  than  he  had  bargained  for  ;  and  in  this  manner. 
It  was  on  the  last  night  before  the  regiment  entrained 
to  the  front.  The  barracks  were  stripped  of  everything 
movable,  and  the  men  were  too  excited  to  sleep.  The 
bare  walls  gave  out  a  heavy  hospital  smell  of  chloride 
of  lime. 

'  And  what,'  said  Mulcahy  in  an  awe-stricken  whisper, 
after  some  conversation  on  the  eternal  subject,  'are 
you  going  to  do  to  me,  Dan  ? '  This  might  have  been  the 
language  of  an  able  conspirator  conciliating  a  weak  spirit. 

'You'll  see,'  said  Dan  grimly,  turning  over  in  his 
cot,  *  or  I  rather  shud  say  you  11  not  see.' 


LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

This  was  hardly  the  language  of  a  weak  spirit. 
Mulcahy  shook  under  the  bed-clothes. 

'  lie  easy  with  him,'  put  in  Egan  from  the  next  cot. 
'  He  has  got  his  chanst  o'  goin'  clean.  Listen,  Mulcahy, 
all  we  want  is  for  the  good  sake  of  the  regiment  that 
you  take  your  death  standing  up,  as  a  man  shud. 
There's  be  heaps  an'  heaps  of  enemy — plenshus  heaps. 
Go  there  an'  do  all  you  can  and  die  decent.  You'll  die 
with  a  good  name  there.  'Tis  not  a  hard  thing  con- 
siderin'.' 

Again  Mulcahy  shivered. 

'  An'  how  could  a  man  wish  to  die  better  than  fightin'  ?  * 
added  Dan  consolingly. 

'  And  if  I  won't  ? '  said  the  corporal  in  a  dry  whisper. 

'  There'll  be  a  dale  of  smoke,'  returned  Dan,  sitting 
up  and  ticking  off  the  situation  on  his  fingers,  '  sure  to  be, 
an'  the  noise  of  the  firin'  '11  be  tremenjus,  an'  we'll  be 
running  about  up  and  down,  the  regiment  will.  But  we, 
Horse  and  I — we'll  stay  by  you,  Mulcahy,  and  never  let 
you  go.  Maybe  there'll  be  an  accident.' 

'  It's  playing  it  low  on  me.  Let  me  go.  For  pity's 
sake  let  me  go.  I  never  did  you  harm,  and — and  I 
stood  you  as  much  beer  as  I  could.  Oh,  don't  be  hard 
on  me,  Dan!  You  are — you  were  in  it  too.  You  won't 
kill  me  up  there,  will  you  ? ' 

'I'm  not  thinkin'  of  the  treason;  though  you  shud 
be  glad  any  honest  boys  drank  with  you.  It's  for  the 
regiment.  We  can't  have  the  shame  o'  you  bringin' 
shame  on  us.  You  went  to  the  doctor  quiet  as  a  sick 
cat  to  get  and  stay  behind  an'  live  with  the  women  at 
the  depot — you  that  wanted  us  to  run  to  the  sea  in 
wolf-packs  like  the  rebels  none  of  your  black  blood 
dared  to  be!  But  we  knew  about  your  goin'  to  the 
doctor,  for  he  told  in  mess,  and  it's  all  over  the  regiment. 


THE  MUTINY  OF  THE  MAVERICKS  283 

Bein',  as  we  are,  your  best  friends,  we  didn't  allow  any 
one  to  molest  you  yet.  We  will  see  to  you  ourselves. 
Fight  which  you  will — us  or  the  enemy — you'll  never 
lie  in  that  cot  again,  and  there's  more  glory  and  maybe 
less  kicks  from  fightin'  the  enemy.  That's  fair  speukinV 

'  And  he  told  us  by  word  of  mouth  to  go  and  join 
with  the  niggers — you've  forgotten  that,  Dan,'  said  Horse 
Egan,  to  justify  sentence. 

'What's  the  use  of  plaguin'  the  man?  One  shot  pays 
for  all.  Sleep  ye  sound,  Mulcahy.  But  you  onderstaud, 
do  ye  not  ? ' 

Mulcahy  for  some  weeks  understood  very  little  of 
anything  at  all  save  that  ever  at  his  elbow,  in  camp, 
or  at  parade,  stood  two  big  men  with  soft  voices  ad- 
juring him  to  commit  hari-kari  lest  a  worse  thing 
should  happen — to  die  for  the  honour  of  the  regiment 
in  decency  among  the  nearest  knives.  But  Mulcahy 
dreaded  death.  He  remembered  certain  things  that 
priests  had  said  in  his  infancy,  and  his  mother — not  the 
one  at  New  York — starting  from  her  sleep  with  shrieks 
to  pray  for  a  husband's  soul  in  torment.  It  is  well  to  be 
of  a  cultured  intelligence,  but  in  time  of  trouble  the 
weak  human  mind  returns  to  the  creed  it  sucked  in  at 
the  breast,  and  if  that  creed  be  not  a  pretty  one  trouble 
follows.  Also,  the  death  he  would  have  to  face  would 
be  physically  painful.  Most  conspirators  have  large 
imaginations.  Mulcahy  could  see  himself,  as  he  lay  on 
the  earth  in  the  night,  dying  by  various  causes.  They 
were  all  horrible  ;  the  mother  in  New  York  was  very  far 
away,  and  the  Regiment,  the  engine  that,  once  you  fall  in 
its  grip,  moves  you  forward  whether  you  will  or  won't, 
was  daily  coming  closer  to  the  enemy  ! 

They  were  brought  to  the  field  of  Marzun-Katai,  and 


284  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

with  the  Black  Boneens  to  aid,  they  fought  a  fight  that 
has  never  been  set  down  in  the  newspapers.  In  response, 
many  believe,  to  the  fervent  prayers  of  Father  Dennis, 
the  enemy  not  only  elected  to  fight  in  the  open,  but  made 
a  beautiful  fight,  as  many  weeping  Irish  mothers  knew 
later.  They  gathered  behind  walls  or  flickered  across 
the  open  in  shouting  masses,  and  were  pot-valiant 
in  artillery.  It  was  expedient  to  hold  a  large  reserve 
and  wait  for  the  psychological  moment  that  was  being 
prepared  by  the  shrieking  shrapnel.  Therefore  the 
Mavericks  lay  down  in  open  order  on  the  brow  of  a  hill 
to  watch  the  play  till  their  call  should  come.  Father 
Dennis,  whose  duty  was  in  the  rear,  to  smooth  the 
trouble  of  the  wounded,  had  naturally  managed  to  make 
his  way  to  the  foremost  of  his  boys  and  ay  like  a  black 
porpoise,  at  length  on  the  grass.  To  him  crawled  Mul- 
cahy,  ashen-gray,  demanding  absolution. 

'  Wait  till  you're  shot/  said  Father  Dennis  sweetly. 
'  There's  a  time  for  everything.' 

Dan  Grady  chuckled  as  he  blew  for  the  fiftieth  time 
into  the  breech  of  his  speckless  rifle.  Mulcahy  groaned 
and  buried  his  head  in  his  arms  till  a  stray  shot  spoke 
like  a  snipe  immediately  above  his  head,  and  a  general 
heave  and  tremour  rippled  the  line.  Other  shots  followed 
and  a  few  took  effect,  as  a  shriek  or  a  grunt  attested. 
The  officers,  who  had  been  lying  down  with  the  men,  rose 
and  began  to  walk  steadily  up  and  down  the  front  of  their 
companies. 

This  manoeuvre,  executed,  not  for  publication,  but  as  a 
guarantee  of  good  faith,  to  soothe  men,  demands  nerve. 
You  must  not  hurry,  you  must  not  look  nervous,  though 
you  know  that  you  are  a  mark  for  every  rifle  within 
extreme  range,  and  above  all  if  you  are  smitten  you 
must  make  as  little  noise  as  possible  and  roll  inwards 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  285 

through  the  files.  It  is  at  this  hour,  when  the  breeze 
brings  the  first  salt  whiff  of  the  powder  to  noses  rather 
cold  at  the  tip,  and  the  eye  can  quietly  take  in  the 
appearance  of  eacli  red  casualty,  that  the  strain  on  the 
nerves  is  strongest.  Scotch  regiments  can  endure  for  half 
a  day  and  abate  no  whit  of  their  zeal  at  the  end; 
English  regiments  sometimes  sulk  under  punishment,  while 
the  Irish,  like  the  French,  are  apt  to  run  forward  by  ones 
and  twos,  which  is  just  as  bad  as  running  back.  The 
truly  wise  commandant  of  highly-strung  troops  allows 
them,  in  seasons  of  waiting,  to  hear  the  sound  of  their  own 
voices  uplifted  in  song.  There  is  a  legend  of  an  English 
regiment  that  lay  by  its  arms  under  fire  chaunting  'Sam 
Hall,'  to  the  horror  of  its  newly  appointed  and  pious 
colonel.  The  Black  Boneens,  who  were  suffering  more 
than  the  Mavericks,  on  a  hill  half  a  mile  away,  began 
presently  to  explain  to  all  who  cared  to  listen — 

We'll  sound  the  jubilee,  from  the  centre  to  the  sea, 
And  Ireland  shall  be  free,  says  the  Shan-van  Vogh. 

'Sing,  boys,'  said  Father  Dennis  softly.  'It  looks  as 
if  we  cared  for  their  Afghan  peas.' 

Dan  Grady  raised  himself  to  his  knees  and  opened  his 
mouth  in  a  song  imparted  to  him,  as  to  most  of  his  com- 
rades, in  the  strictest  confidence  by  Mulcahy —  that 
Mulcahy  then  lying  limp  and  fainting  on  the  grass,  the 
chill  fear  of  death  upon  him. 

Company  after  company  caught  up  the  words  which, 
the  LA. A.  say,  are  to  herald  the  general  rising  of  Erin, 
and  to  breathe  which,  except  to  those  duly  appointed  to 
hear,  is  death.  Wherefore  they  are  printed  in  this  place. 

The  Saxon  in  Heaven's  just  balance  is  weighed, 
His  doom  like  Belsbazznr'a  in  death  has  been  cast, 

And  the  hand  of  the  venger  shall  never  be  stayed 

Till  his  race,  faith,  and  speech  are  a  dream  of  the  past. 


286  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

They  were  heart-filling  lines  and  they  ran  with  a 
swirl;  the  LA. A.  are  better  served  by  their  pens  than 
their  petards.  Dan  clapped  Mulcahy  merrily  on  the 
buck,  asking  him  to  sing  up.  The  officers  lay  down  again. 
There  was  no  need  to  walk  any  more.  Their  men  were 
soothing  themselves  thunderously,  thus— 

St.  Mary  iu  Heaven  has  written  the  vow 
That  the  land  shall  not  rest  till  the  heretic  blood, 

From  the  babe  at  the  breast  to  the  hand  at  the  plough, 
Has  rolled  to  the  ocean  like  Shannon  iu  flood  1 

'  I'll  speak  to  you  after  all's  over,'  said  Father  Dennis 
authoritatively  in  Dan's  ear.  '  What's  the  use  of  con- 
fessing to  me  when  you  do  this  foolishness?  Dan,  you've 
been  playing  with  fire  !  I'll  lay  you  more  penance  in  a 
week  than ' 

*  Come  along  to  Purgatory  with  us,  Father  dear.  The 
Boneens  are  on  the  move;  they'll  let  us  go  now  ! ' 

The  regiment  rose  to  the  blast  of  the  bugle  as  one 
man;  but  one  man  there  was  who  rose  more  swiftly  than 
all  the  others,  for  half  an  inch  of  bayonet  was  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  his  leg. 

'  You've  got  to  do  it,'  said  Dan  grimly.  *  Do  it  decent, 
anyhow;'  and  the  roar  of  the  rush  drowned  his  words, 
for  the  rear  companies  thrust  forward  the  first,  still  sing- 
ing as  they  swung  down  the  slope — 

From  the  child  at  the  breast  to  the  hand  at  the  plough 
Shall  roll  to  the  ocean  like  Shannon  in  flood  I 

They  should  have  sung  it  in  the  face  of  England,  not 
of  the  Afghans,  whom  it  impressed  as  much  as  did  the 
wild  Irish  yell. 

'  They  came  down  singing,'  said  the  unofficial  report  of 
the  enemy,  borne  from  village  to  village  the  next  day 


THE   MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  287 

'They  continued  to  sing,  and  it  was  written  that  our  men 
could  not  abide  when  they  came.  It  is  believed  that 
there  was  magic  in  the  aforesaid  song.' 

Dan  and  Horse  Egan  kept  themselves  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Mulcahy.  Twice  the  man  would  have  bolted 
back  in  the  confusion.  Twice  he  was  heaved,  kicked,  and 
shouldered  back  again  into  the  unpaintable  inferno  of  a 
hotly  contested  charge. 

At  the  end,  the  panic  excess  of  his  fear  drove  him 
into  madness  beyond  all  human  courage.  His  eyes  staring 
at  nothing,  his  mouth  open  and  frothing,  and  breathing  as 
one  in  a  cold  bath,  he  went  forward  demented,  while  Dan 
toiled  after  him.  The  charge  checked  at  a  high  mud  wall. 
It  was  Mulcahy  who  scrambled  up  tooth  and  nail  and 
hurled  down  among  the  bayonets  the  amazed  Afghan 
who  barred  his  way.  It  was  Mulcahy,  keeping  to  the 
straight  line  of  the  rabid  dog,  who  led  a  collection  of  ardent 
souls  at  a  newly  unmasked  battery  and  flung  himself  on 
the  muzzle  of  a  gun  as  his  companions  danced  among  the 
gunners.  It  was  Mulcahy  who  ran  wildly  on  from  that 
battery  into  the  open  plain,  where  the  enemy  were  retiring 
in  sullen  groups.  His  hands  were  empty,  he  had  lost 
helmet  and  belt,  and  he  was  bleeding  from  a  wound  in 
the  neck.  Dan  and  Horse  Egan,  panting  and  distressed, 
had  thrown  themselves  down  on  the  ground  by  the 
captured  guns,  when  they  noticed  Mulcahy 's  charge. 

'  Mad,'  said  Horse  Egan  critically.  'Mad  with  fear! 
He's  going  straight  to  his  death,  an'  shouting's  no  use.' 

'Let  him  go.  Watch  now!  If  we  fire  we'll  hit  him 
maybe.' 

The  last  of  a  hurrying  crowd  of  Afghans  turned  at  the 
noise  of  shod  feet  behind  him,  and  shifted  his  knife  ready 
to  hand.  This,  he  saw,  was  no  time  to  take  prisoners. 
Mulcahy  tore  on,  sobbing  ;  the  straight-held  blade  went 


LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

home  through  the  defenceless  breast,  and  the  body  pitched 
forward  almost  before  a  shot  from  Dun's  rifle  brought 
down  the  slayer  and  still  further  hurried  the  Afghan 
retreat.  The  two  Irishmen  went  out  to  bring  ill  their 
dead. 

'He  was  given  the  point  and  that  was  an  easy  death,' 
said  Horse  Egan,  viewing  the  corpse.  'But  would  you 
ha'  shot  him,  Danny,  if  he  had  lived?' 

'He  didn't  live,  so  there's  no  sayin'.  But  I  doubt  I 
wud  have  bekase  of  the  fun  he  gave  us — let  alone  the 
beer.  Hike  up  his  legs,  Horse,  and  we'll  bring  him  in. 
Perhaps  'tis  better  this  way.' 

They  bore  the  poor  limp  body  to  the  mass  of  the 
regiment,  lolling  open-mouthed  on  their  rifles  ;  and  there 
was  a  general  snigger  when  one  of  the  younger  subalterns 
said,  '  That  was  a  good  man  ! ' 

'  Phew,'  said  Horse  Egan,  when  a  burial-party  had 
taken  over  the  burden.  *  I'm  powerful  dhry,  and  this 
reminds  me  there'll  be  no  more  beer  at  all.' 

'Fwhy  not? 'said  Dan,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as 
he  stretched  himself  for  rest.  'Are  we  not  conspiriu'  all 
we  can,  an'  while  we  conspire  are  we  not  entitled  to  free 
dhrinks  ?  Sure  his  ould  mother  in  New  York  would  not 
let  her  soirs  comrades  perish  of  drouth — if  she  can  be 
reached  at  the  end  of  a  letter.' 

'You're  a  janius,'  said  Horse  Egan.  '0'  coorse  she 
will  not.  I  wish  this  crool  war  was  over,  an'  we'd  get 
back  to  canteen.  Faith,  the  Commander-in-chief  ought 
to  be  hanged  in  his  own  little  sword-belt  for  makin'  us 
work  on  wather.' 

The  Mavericks  were  generally  of  Horse  Egan's  opinion. 
So  they  made  haste  to  get  their  work  done  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  their  industry  was  rewarded  by  unexpected 
peace.  'We  can  fight  the  sons  of  Adam,'  said  the  tribes- 


THE  MUTINY   OF  THE  MAVERICKS  289 

men,  'but  we  cannot  fight  the  sons  of  Eblis,  and  this 
regiment  never  stays  still  in  one  place.  Let  us  therefore 
come  in.'  They  came  in  and  'this  regiment '  withdrew 
to  conspire  under  the  leadership  of  Dan  Grady. 

Excellent  as  a  subordinate  Dan  failed  altogether  as  a 
chief-iu-command — possibly  because  lie  was  too  much 
swayed  by  the  advice  of  the  only  man  in  the  regiment  who 
could  manufacture  more  than  one  kind  of  handwriting.  The 
same  mail  that  bore  to  Mulcahy's  mother  in  New  York  a 
letter  from  the  colonel  telling  her  how  valiantly  her  son  had 
fought  for  the  Queen,  and  how  assuredly  he  would  have 
been  recommended  for  the  Victoria  Cross  had  he  survived, 
carried  a  communication  signed,  I  grieve  to  say,  by  that 
same  colonel  and  all  the  officers  of  the  regiment,  explaining 
their  willingness  to  do  'anything  which  is  contrary  to  the 
regulations  and  all  kinds  of  revolutions' if  only  a  little 
money  could  be  forwarded  to  cover  incidental  expenses. 
Daniel  Grady,  Esquire,  would  receive  funds,  vice  Mulcahy, 
who  '  was  unwell  at  this  present  time  of  writing.' 

Both  letters  were  forwarded  from  New  York  to  Tehama 
Street,  San  Francisco,  with  marginal  comments  as  brief 
as  they  were  bitter.  The  Third  Three  read  and  looked  at 
each  other.  Then  the  Second  Conspirator  —  he  who 
believed  in  'joining  hands  with  the  practical  branches' — 
began  to  laugh,  and  on  recovering  his  gravity  said, 
'  Gentlemen,  I  consider  this  will  be  a  lesson  to  us.  We're 
left  again.  Those  cursed  Irish  have  let  us  down.  I  knew 
they  would,  but'  —  here  he  laughed  afresh  —  'I'd  give 
considerable  to  know  what  was  at  the  back  of  it  all.' 

His  curiosity  would  have  been  satisfied  had  he  seen 
Dan  Grady,  discredited  regimental  conspirator,  trying  to 
explain  to  his  thirsty  comrades  in  India  the  non-arrival 
of  funds  from  New  York, 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST 


Your  Gods  and  my  Gods — do  you  or  I  know  which  are  the  stronger  ? 

Native  I*roverb. 


EAST  of  Suez,  some  hold,  the  direct  control  of  Providence 
ceases ;  Man  being  there  handed  over  to  the  power  of  the 
Gods  and  Devils  of  Asia,  and  the  Church  of  England 
Providence  only  exercising  an  occasional  and  modified 
supervision  in  the  case  of  Englishmen. 

This  theory  accounts  for  some  of  the  more  unnecessary 
horrors  of  life  in  India  :  it  may  be  stretched  to  explain 
my  story. 

My  friend  Strickland  of  the  Police,  who  knows  as 
much  of  natives  of  India  as  is  good  for  any  man,  can  bear 
witness  to  the  facts  of  the  case.  Dumoise,  our  doctor, 
also  saw  what  Strickland  and  I  saw.  The  inference  which 
he  drew  from  the  evidence  was  entirely  incorrect.  He  is 
dead  now ;  he  died  in  a  rather  curious  manner,  which 
has  been  elsewhere  described. 

When  Fleete  came  to  India  he  owned  a  little  money 
and  some  land  in  the  Himalayas,  near  a  place  called 
Dharmsala.  Both  properties  had  been  left  him  by  an 
uncle,  and  he  came  out  to  finance  them.  He  was  a  big, 
heavy,  genial,  and  inoffensive  man.  His  knowledge  of 
natives  was,  of  course,  limited,  and  he  complained  of  the 
difficulties  of  the  language. 

He  rode  in  from  his  place  in  the  hills  to  spend  New 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST  291 

Year  in  the  station,  and  he  stayed  with  Strickland.  On 
New  Year's  Eve  there  was  a  big  dinner  at  the  club,  and 
the  night  was  excusably  wet.  When  men  foregather 
from  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  Empire,  they  have  a  right 
to  be  riotous.  The  Frontier  had  sent  down  a  contingent 
o'  Catch-'em-Alive-O's  who  had  not  seen  twenty  white  faces 
for  a  year,  and  were  used  to  ride  fifteen  miles  to  dinner 
at  the  next  Fort  at  the  risk  of  a  Khyberee  bullet  where 
their  drinks  should  lie.  They  profited  by  their  new 
security,  for  they  tried  to  play  pool  with  a  curled-up 
hedgehog  found  in  the  garden,  and  one  of  them  carried 
the  marker  round  the  room  in  his  teeth.  Half  a  dozen 
planters  had  come  in  from  the  south  and  were  talking 
'horse'  to  the  Biggest  Liar  in  Asia,  who  was  trying  to 
cap  all  their  stories  at  once.  Everybody  was  there,  and 
there  was  a  general  closing  up  of  ranks  and  taking  stock 
of  our  losses  in  dead  or  disabled  th;it  had  fallen  during 
the  past  year.  It  was  a  very  wet  night,  and  i  remember 
that  we  sang  'Auld  Lang  Syne'  with  our  feet  in  the  Polo 
Championship  Cup,  and  our  heads  among  the  stars,  and 
swore  that  we  were  all  dear  friends.  Then  some  of  us 
went  away  and  annexed  Burma,  and  some  tried  to  open 
up  the  Soudan  and  weie  opened  up  by  Fuz/ies  in  that 
cruel  scrub  outside  Suakim,  and  some  found  stars  and 
medals,  and  some  were  married,  which  was  bad,  and  some 
did  other  things  which  were  worse,  and  the  others  of  us 
stayed  in  our  chains  and  strove  to  make  money  on 
insufficient  experiences. 

Fleete  began  the  night  with  sherry  and  bitters,  drank 
champagne  steadily  up  to  dessert,  then  raw,  rasping  Capri 
with  all  the  strength  of  whisky,  took  Benedictine  with  his 
coffee,  four  or  five  whiskies  and  sodas  to  improve  his  [tool 
strokes,  beer  and  bones  at  half-past  two,  winding  up  with 
old  brandy.  Consequently,  when  lie  came  out,  at  half- 


292  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

past  three  in  the  morning,  into  fourteen  degrees  of  frost, 
he  was  very  angry  with  his  horse  for  coughing,  and  tried 
to  leapfrog  into  the  saddle.  The  horse  broke  away  and 
went  to  his  stables;  so  Strickland  and  I  formed  a  Guard 
of  Dishonour  to  take  Fleete  home. 

Our  road  lay  through  the  bazaar,  close  to  a  little 
temple  of  Hanuman,  the  Monkey-god,  who  is  a  leading 
divinity  worthy  of  respect.  All  gods  have  good  points, 
just  as  have  all  priests.  Personally,  I  attach  much 
importance  to  Hanurnan,  and  am  kind  to  his  people — the 
great  gray  apes  of  the  hills.  One  never  knows  when  one 
may  want  a  friend. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  temple,  and  as  we  passed,  we 
could  hear  voices  of  men  chanting  hymns.  In  a  native 
temple,  the  priests  rise  at  all  hours  of  the  night  to  do 
honour  to  their  god.  Before  we  could  stop  him,  Fleete 
dashed  up  the  steps,  patted  two  priests  on  the  back,  and 
was  gravely  grinding  the  ashes  of  his  cigar-butt  into  the 
forehead  of  the  red,  stone  image  of  Hanuman.  Strickland 
tried  to  drag  him  out,  but  he  sat  down  and  said  solemnly: 

'Shec  that?  'Mark  of  the  B— beasht!  1  made  it. 
Ishn't  it  fine?' 

In  half  a  minute  UK-  temple  was  alive  and  noisy,  and 
Strickland,  who  knew  what  came  of  polluting  gods,  said 
that  things  might  occur.  He,  by  virtue  of  his  official 
position,  long  residence  in  the  country,  and  weakness  for 
going  among  the  natives,  was  known  to  the  priests  and 
he  felt  unhappy.  Fleete  sat  on  the  ground  and  refuse! 
to  move.  He  said  that  'good  old  Hanuman  '  made  a  very 
soft  pillow. 

Then,  without  any  warning,  a  Silver  Man  came  out  of 
a  recess  behind  the  image  of  the  god.  He  was  perfectly 
naked  in  that  bitter,  bitter  cold,  and  his  body  shone  like 
frosted  silver,  for  he  was  what  the  Bible  calls  'a  leper  as 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST  293 

white  as  snow.'  Also  he  had  no  face,  because  he  was  a 
leper  of  some  years'  standing,  and  his  disease  was  heavy 
upon  him.  We  two  stooped  to  haul  Fleete  up,  and  the 
temple  was  filling  and  filling  with  folk  who  seemed  to 
spring  from  the  earth,  when  the  Silver  Man  ran  in  under 
our  arms,  making  a  noise  exactly  like  the  mewing  of  an 
otter,  caught  Fleete  round  the  body  and  dropped  his  head 
on  Fleete's  breast  before  we  could  wrench  him  away. 
Then  he  retired  to  a  corner  and  sat  mewing  while  the 
crowd  blocked  all  the  doors. 

The  priests  were  very  angry  until  the  Silver  Man 
touched  Fleete.  That  nuzzling  seemed  to  sober  them. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes'  silence  one  of  the  priests 
came  to  Strickland  and  said,  in  perfect  English,  'Take 
your  friend  away.  He  has  done  with  Ilanuman,  but 
Hanuman  has  not  done  with  him.'  The  crowd  gave  room 
and  we  carried  Fleete  into  the  road. 

Strickland  was  very  angry.  He  said  that  we  might  all 
three  have  been  knifed,  and  that  Fleete  should  thank  his 
stars  that  he  had  escaped  without  injury. 

Fleete  thanked  no  one.  He  said  that  he  wanted  to  go 
to  bed.  He  was  gorgeously  drunk. 

We  moved  on,  Strickland  silent  and  wrathful,  until 
Fleete  was  taken  with  violent  shivering  fits  and  sweating. 
lie  said  that  the  smells  of  the  bazaar  were  overpowering, 
and  he  wondered  why  slaughter-houses  were  permitted  so 
near  English  residences.  'Can't  you  smell  the  blood?' 
said  Fleete. 

We  put  him  to  bed  at  last,  just  as  the  dawn  was 
breaking,  and  Strickland  invited  me  to  have  another 
whisky  and  soda.  While  we  were  drinking  he  talked 
of  the  trouble  in  the  temple,  and  admitted  that  it  battled 
him  completely.  Strickland  hates  being  mystified  by 
natives,  because  Ins  business  in  life  is  to  overmatch  them 


294-  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

with  their  own  weapons.  He  has  not  yet  succeeded  in 
doing  this,  but  in  fifteen  or  twenty  years  he  will  have 
made  some  small  progress. 

'They  should  have  mauled  us/  he  said,  'instead  of 
mewing  at  us.  I  wonder  what  they  meant.  I  don't  like 
it  one  little  bit.' 

I  said  that  the  Managing  Committee  of  the  temple 
would  in  all  probability  bring  a  criminal  action  against 
us  for  insulting  their  religion.  There  was  a  section  of 
the  Indian  Penal  Code  which  exactly  met  Fleete's  offence. 
Strickland  said  he  only  hoped  and  prayed  that  they  would 
do  this.  Before  I  left  I  looked  into  Fleete's  room,  and 
saw  him  lying  on  his  right  side,  scratching  his  left  breast. 
Then  I  went  to  bed  cold,  depressed,  and  unhappy,  at  seven 
o'cloek  in  the  morning. 

At  one  o'clock  I  rode  over  to  Strickland's  house  to 
inquire  after  Fleete's  head.  I  imagined  that  it  would 
be  a  sore  one.  Fleete  was  breakfasting  and  seemed  unwell. 
His  temper  was  gone,  for  he  was  abusing  the  cook  for 
not  supplying  him  with  an  underdone  chop.  A  man  who 
can  eat  raw  meat  after  a  wet  night  is  a  curiosity.  1  told 
Fleete  this  and  he  laughed. 

'  You  breed  queer  mosquitoes  in  these  parts/  he  said. 
Tve  been  bitten  to  pieces,  but  only  in  one  place.' 

'  Let's  have  a  look  at  the  bite,' said  Strickland,  'it 
may  have  gone  down  since  this  morning.' 

While  the  chops  were  being  cooked,  Fleete  opened 
his  shirt  and  showed  us,  just  over  his  left  breast,  a  mark, 
the  perfect  double  of  the  black  rosettes — the  five  or  six 
irregular  blotches  arranged  in  a  circle — oil  a  leopard's  hide. 
Strickland  looked  and  said,  'It  was  only  pink  this  morning 
It's  giovvn  black  now.' 

Fleete  ran  to  a  glass. 

'  By  Jove! '  he  said,  '  this  is  nasty.     What  is  it?' 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST  295 

We  could  not  answer.  Here  the  chops  came  in,  all 
red  and  juicy,  and  Fleete  bolted  three  in  a  most  offensive 
manner.  He  ate  on  his  right  grinders  only,  and  threw 
his  head  over  his  right  shoulder  as  he  snapped  the  meat. 
When  he  had  finished,  it  struck  him  that  he  had  been 
behaving  strangely,  for  he  said  apologetically,  '  I  don't 
think  I  ever  felt  so  hungry  in  my  life.  I've  bolted  like 
an  ostrich.' 

After  breakfast  Strickland  said  to  me,  *  Don't  go. 
Stay  here,  and  stay  for  the  night.' 

Seeing  that  my  house  was  not  three  miles  from  Strick- 
land's, this  request  was  absurd.  But  Strickland  insisted, 
and  was  going  to  say  something  when  Fleete  interrupted 
by  declaring  in  a  shamefaced  way  that  he  felt  hungry 
again.  Strickland  sent  a  man  to  my  house  to  fetch  over 
my  bedding  and  a  horse,  and  we  three  went  down  to 
Strickland's  stables  to  pass  the  hours  until  it  was  time 
to  go  out  for  a  ride.  The  man  who  has  a  weakness  for 
horses  never  wearies  of  inspecting  them;  and  when  two 
men  are  killing  time  in  this  way  they  gather  knowledge 
and  lies  the  one  from  the  other. 

There  were  five  horses  in  the  stables,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  the  scene  us  we  tried  to  look  them  over.  They 
seemed  to  have  gone  mad.  They  reared  and  screamed 
and  nearly  tore  up  their  pickets;  they  sweated  and 
shivered  and  lathered  and  were  distraught  with  fear. 
Strickland's  horses  used  to  know  him  as  well  as  his  dogs; 
which  made  the  matter  more  curious.  We  left  the  stable 
for  fear  of  the  brutes  throwing  themselves  in  their  panic. 
Then  Strickland  turned  back  and  called  me.  The  horses 
were  still  frightened,  but  they  let  us  '  gentle '  and  make 
much  of  them,  and  put  their  heads  in  our  bosoms. 

*  They  aren't  afraid  of  us,'  «iid  Strickland.  '  D'  you 
know,  I'd  give  three  months'  pay  if  Outrage  here  could  talk.' 


296  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

But  Outrage  was  dumb,  and  could  only  cuddle  up  to 
his  master  and  blow  out  his  nostrils,  as  is  the  custom  of 
horses  when  they  wish  to  explain  things  but  can't.  Fleete 
came  up  when  we  were  in  the  stalls,  and  as  soon  as  the 
horses  saw  him,  their  fright  broke  out  afresh.  It  was 
all  that  we  could  do  to  escape  from  the  place  unkicked. 
Strickland  said,  '  They  don't  seem  to  love  you,  Fleete/ 

'Nonsense/  said  Fleete;  'my  mare  will  follow  me 
like  a  dog.'  He  went  to  her;  she  was  in  a  loose-box; 
but  as  he  slipped  the  bars  she  plunged,  knocked  him 
down,  and  broke  away  into  the  garden.  I  laughed,  but 
Strickland  was  not  amused.  He  took  his  moustache  in 
both  fists  and  pulled  at  it  till  it  nearly  came  out.  Fleete, 
instead  of  going  off  to  chase  his  property,  yawned,  saying 
that  he  felt  sleepy.  He  went  to  the  house  to  lie  down, 
which  was  a  foolish  way  of  spending  New  Year's  Day. 

Strickland  sat  with  me  in  the  stables  and  asked  if  I 
had  noticed  anything  peculiar  in  Fleete's  manner.  I  said 
that  he  ate  his  food  like  a  beast;  but  that  this  might 
have  been  the  result  of  living  alone  in  the  hills  out  of 
the  reach  of  society  as  refined  and  elevating  as  ours  for 
instance.  Strickland  was  not  amused.  I  do  not  think 
that  he  listened  to  me,  for  his  next,  sentence  referred  to 
the  mark  on  Fleete's  breast,  and  I  said  that  it  might 
have  been  caused  by  blister-flies,  or  that  it  was  possibly  a 
birth-mark  newly  born  and  now  visible  for  the  first  time. 
We  both  agreed  that  it  was  unpleasant  to  look  at,  and 
Strickland  found  occasion  to  say  that  I  was  a  fool. 

'  I  can't  tell  you  what  I  think  now/  said  he,  'because 
you  would  call  me  a  madman;  but  you  must  stay  with 
me  for  the  next  few  days,  if  you  can.  I  want  you  to 
watch  Fleete,  but  don't  tell  me  what  you  think  till  I  haye 
made  up  my  mind.' 

'  But  I  am  dining  out  to-night/  I  said. 


THE  MARK  OF  THE   BEAST 

'So  am  I,*  said  Strickland,  'and  so  is  Fleete.  At 
least  if  he  doesn't  change  his  mind.' 

We  walked  about  the  garden  smoking,  but  saying 
nothing — because  we  were  friends,  and  talking  spoils 
good  tobacco — till  our  pipes  were  out.  Then  we  went 
to  wake  up  Fleete.  He  was  wide  awake  and  fidgeting 
about  his  room. 

'  I  say,  I  want  some  more  chops,'  he  said.  '  Can  I 
get  them  ? ' 

We  laughed  and  said,  'Go  and  change.  The  ponies 
will  be  round  in  a  minute.' 

*  All  right/  said  Fleete.  '  I'll  go  when  I  get  the 
chops — underdone  ones,  mind/ 

He  seemed  to  be  quite  in  earnest.  It  was  four 
o'clock,  and  we  had  had  breakfast  at  one;  still,  for  a  long 
time,  he  demanded  those  underdone  chops.  Then  he 
changed  into  riding  clothes  and  went  out  into  the  verandah. 
His  pony — the  mare  had  not  been  caught — would  not 
let  him  come  near.  All  three  horses  were  unmanageable 
—  mad  with  fear— and  finally  Fleete  said  that  he  would 
stay  at  home  and  get  something  to  eat.  Strickland  and 
I  rode  out  wondering.  As  we  passed  the  temple  of 
Hanuman,  the  Silver  Man  came  out  and  mewed  at  us. 

'  He  is  not  one  of  the  regular  priests  of  the  temple/ 
said  Strickland.  '  I  think  I  should  peculiarly  like  to  Lay 
my  hands  on  him/ 

There  was  no  spring  in  our  gallop  on  the  racecourse 
that  evening.  The  horses  were  stale,  and  moved  as 
though  they  had  been  ridden  out. 

'The  fright  after  breakfast  has  been  too  much  for 
them/  said  Strickland. 

That  was  the  only  remark  he  made  through  the  re- 
mainder of  the  ride.  Once  or  twice  I  think  he  swore  to 
himself;  but  that  did  not  count. 


208  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

We  came  back  in  the  dark  at  seven  o'clock,  and  saw 
that  there  were  no  lights  in  the  bungalow.  '  Careless 
ruffians  my  servants  are  ! '  said  Strickland. 

My  horse  reared  at  something  on  the  carriage  drive, 
and  Fleete  stood  up  under  its  nose. 

'What  are  you  doing,  grovelling  about  the  garden?' 
said  Strickland. 

But  botli  horses  bolted  and  nearly  threw  us.  We 
dismounted  by  the  stables  and  returned  to  Fleete,  who 
was  on  his  hands  and  knees  under  the  orange-bushes. 

'What  the  devil's  wrong  with  you  ?  '  said  Strickland. 

'Nothing,  nothing  in  the  world/  said  Fleete,  speaking 
very  quickly  and  thickly.  'I've  been  gardening — botan- 
ising  you  know.  The  smell  of  the  earth  is  delightful. 
I  think  I'm  going  for  a  walk — a  long  walk — all  night.' 

Then  I  saw  that  there  was  something  excessively  out 
of  order  somewhere,  and  I  said  to  Strickland,  '  I  am  not 
dining  out/ 

'Bless  you!'  said  Strickland.  ' Here,  Fleete,  get  up. 
You'll  catch  fever  there.  Come  in  to  dinner  and  let's 
have  the  lamps  lit.  We'll  all  dine  at  home.' 

Fleete  stood  up  unwillingly,  and  said,  '  No  lamps — no 
lamps.  It's  much  nicer  here.  Let's  dine  outside  and 
have  some  more  chops — lots  of  'em  and  underdone — 
bloody  ones  with  gristle.' 

Now  a  December  evening  in  Northern  India  is 
bitterly  cold,  and  Fleete's  suggestion  was  that  of  a 
maniac. 

'  Come  in/  said  Strickland  sternly.  '  Come  in  at 
once/ 

Fleete  came,  and  when  the  lamps  were  brought,  we 
saw  that  he  was  literally  plastered  with  dirt  from  head 
to  foot.  He  must  have  been  rolling  in  the  garden.  He 
shrank  from  the  light  and  went  to  his  room.  His  eyes 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST  299 

were  horrible  to  look  at.  There  was  a  green  light  behind 
them,  not  in  them,  if  you  understand,  and  the  man's 
lower  lip  hung  down. 

Strickland  said,  'There  is  going  to  be  trouble — big 
trouble — to-night.  Don't  you  change  your  riding-things.' 

We  waited  and  waited  for  Fleete's  reappearance,  and 
ordered  dinner  in  the  meantime.  We  could  hear  him 
moving  about  his  own  room,  but  there  was  no  light  there. 
Presently  from  the  room  came  the  long-drawn  howl  of  a 
wolf. 

People  write  and  talk  lightly  of  blood  running  cold 
and  hair  standing  up  and  things  of  that  kind.  Both 
sensations  are  too  horrible  to  be  trifled  with.  My  heart 
stopped  as  though  a  knife  had  been  driven  through  it, 
and  Strickland  turned  as  white  as  the  tablecloth. 

The  howl  was  repeated,  and  was  answered  by  another 
howl  far  across  the  fields. 

That  set  the  gilded  roof  on  the  horror.  Strickland 
dashed  into  Fleete's  room.  I  followed,  and  we  saw 
Fleete  getting  out  of  the  window,  lie  made  beast-noises 
in  the  back  of  his  throat.  He  could  not  answer  us  when 
we  shouted  at  him.  He  spat. 

I  don't  quite  remember  what  followed,  but  I  think 
that  Strickland  must  have  stunned  him  with  the  long 
boot-jack  or  else  I  should  never  have  been  able  to  sit  on 
his  chest.  Fleete  could  not  speak,  he  could  only  snarl, 
and  his  snarls  were  those  of  a  wolf,  not  of  a  man.  The 
human  spirit  must  have  been  giving  way  all  day  and 
have  died  out  with  the  twilight.  We  were  dealing  with 
a  beast  that  had  once  been  Fleete. 

The  affair  was  beyond  any  human  and  rational  ex- 
perience. I  tried  to  say  'Hydrophobia/  but  the  word 
wouldn't  come,  because  I  knew  that  I  was  lying. 

We    bound    this    be.ist    with    leather    thongs   of    the 


300  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

punkah-rope,  and  tied  its  thumbs  and  big  toes  together, 
and  gagged  it  with  a  shoe-horn,  which  makes  a  very 
efficient  gag  if  you  know  how  to  arrange  it.  Then  we 
carried  it  into  the  dining-room,  and  sent  a  man  to 
Dumoise,  the  doctor,  telling  him  to  come  over  at  once. 
After  we  had  despatched  the  messenger  and  were  draw- 
ing breath,  Strickland  said,  '  It's  no  good.  This  isn't  any 
doctor's  work.'  I,  also,  knew  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

The  beast's  head  was  free,  and  it  threw  it  about  from 
side  to  side.  Any  one  entering  the  room  would  have 
believed  that  we  were  curing  a  wolf's  pelt.  That  was 
the  most  loathsome  accessory  of  all. 

Strickland  sut  with  his  chin  in  the  heel  of  his  fist, 
watching  the  beast  as  it  wriggled  on  the  ground,  but  say- 
ing nothing.  The  shirt  had  been  torn  open  in  the  scuffle 
and  showed  the  black  rosette  mark  on  the  left  breast.  It 
stood  out  like  a  blister. 

In  the  silence  of  the  watching  we  heard  something 
without  mewing  like  a  she-otter.  We  both  rose  to  our 
feet,  and,  I  answer  for  myself,  not  Strickland,  felt  sick — 
actually  and  physically  sick.  We  told  each  other,  as  did 
the  men  in  Pinafore,  that  it  was  the  cat. 

Dumoise  arrived,  and  I  never  saw  a  little  man  so 
unprofessionally  shocked.  He  said  that  it  was  a  heart- 
rending case  of  hydrophobia,  and  that  nothing  could 
be  done.  At  least  any  palliative  measures  would  only 
prolong  the  agony.  The  beast  was  foaming  at  the 
mouth.  Fleete,  as  we  told  Dumoise,  had  been  bitten 
by  dogs  once  or  twice.  Any  man  who  keeps  half  a 
dozen  terriers  must  expect  a  nip  now  and  again. 
Dumoise  could  offer  no  help.  He  could  only  certify 
that  Fleete  was  dying  of  hydrophobia.  The  beast  was 
then  howling,  for  it  had  managed  to  spit  out  the 
shoe-horn.  Dumoise  said  that  he  would  be  ready  to 


THE   MARK  OF  THE   BEAST  301 

certify  to  the  cause  of  death,  and  that  the  end  was 
certain.  He  was  a  good  little  man,  and  he  offered  to 
remain  with  us;  but  Strickland  refused  the  kindness. 
He  did  not  wish  to  poison  Dumoise's  New  Year.  He 
would  only  ask  him  not  to  give  the  real  cause  of  Fleete's 
death  to  the  public. 

So  Dumoise  left,  deeply  agitated;  and  as  soon  as  the 
noise  of  the  cart-wheels  had  died  away,  Strickland  told 
me,  in  a  whisper,  his  suspicions.  They  were  so  wildly 
improbable  that  he  dared  not  say  them  out  aloud;  and  I, 
who  entertained  all  Strickland's  beliefs,  was  so  ashamed 
of  owning  to  them  that  I  pretended  to  disbelieve. 

'Even  if  the  Silver  Man  had  bewitched  Fleete  for 
polluting  the  image  of  Hanuman,  the  punishment  could 
not  have  fallen  so  quickly.' 

As  I  was  whispering  this  the  cry  outside  the  house 
rose  again,  and  the  beast  fell  into  a  fresh  paroxysm 
of  struggling  till  we  were  afraid  that  the  thongs  that 
held  it  would  give  way. 

'Watch!'  said  Strickland.  'If  this  happens  six 
times  I  shall  take  the  law  into  my  own  hands.  I  order 
you  to  help  me.' 

He  went  into  his  room  and  came  out  in  a  few 
minutes  with  the  barrels  of  an  old  shot-gun,  a  piece 
of  fishing-line,  some  thick  cord,  and  his  heavy  wooden 
bedstead.  I  reported  that  the  convulsions  had  followed 
the  cry  by  two  seconds  in  each  case,  and  the  beast  seemed 
perceptibly  weaker. 

Strickland  muttered,  'But  he  can't  take  away  the  life  ! 
He  can't  take  away  the  life  ! ' 

I  said,  though  I  knew  that  I  was  arguing  against  my- 
self, 'It  may  be  a  cat.  It  must  be  a  cat.  If  the  Silver 
Man  is  responsible,  why  does  he  dare  to  come  here  ?' 

Strickland  arranged  the  wood  on  the  hearth,  put  the 


302  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

gun-barrels  into  the  glow  of  the  fire,  spread  the  twine  on 
the  table  and  broke  a  walking  stick  in  two.  There  was 
one  yard  of  fishing  line,  gut,  lapped  with  wire,  such  as 
is  used  for  111  ah  seer- fishing,  and  he  tied  the  two  ends 
together  in  a  loop. 

Then  he  said,  '  How  can  we  catch  him  ?  He  must  he 
taken  alive  and  unhurt.' 

I  said  that  we  must  trust  in  Providence,  and  go  out 
softly  with  polo-sticks  into  the  shrubbery  at  the  front  of 
the  ho  use.  The  man  or  animal  that  made  the  cry  was 
evidently  moving  round  the  house  as  regularly  as  a 
night-watchman.  We  could  wait  in  the  bushes  till 
he  came  by  and  knock  him  over. 

Strickland  accepted  this  suggestion,  and  we  slipped 
out  from  a  bath-room  window  into  the  front  verandah 
and  then  across  the  carriage  drive  into  the  bushes. 

In  the  moonlight  we  could  see  the  leper  coming  round 
the  corner  of  the  house.  He  was  perfectly  naked,  and 
from  time  to  time  he  mewed  and  stopped  to  dance  with 
his  shadow.  It  was  an  unattractive  sight,  and  thinking 
of  poor  Fleete,  brought  to  such  degradation  by  so  foul  a 
creature,  I  put  away  all  my  doubts  and  resolved  to  help 
Strickland  from  the  heated  gun-barrels  to  the  loop  of 
twine — from  the  loins  to  the  head  and  back  again — 
with  all  tortures  that  might  be  needful. 

The  leper  halted  in  the  front  porch  for  a  moment  and 
we  jumped  out  on  him  with  the  sticks.  He  was  wonder- 
fully strong,  and  we  were  afraid  that  he  might  escape  or 
be  fatally  injured  before  we  caught  him.  We  had  an 
idea  that  lepers  were  frail  creatures,  but  this  proved 
to  be  incorrect.  Strickland  knocked  his  legs  from 
under  him  and  I  put  my  foot  on  his  neck.  He  mewed 
hideously,  and  even  through  my  riding-boots  I  could  feel 
that  his  flesh  was  not  the  flesh  of  a  clean  man. 


303 

He  struck  at  us  with  his  hand  and  feet-stumps.  We 
looped  the  lash  of  a  dog-whip  round  him,  under  the  arm- 
pits, and  dragged  him  backwards  into  the  hall  and  so 
into  the  dining-room  where  the  beast  lay.  There  we 
tied  him  with  trunk-straps.  He  made  no  attempt  to 
escape,  but  mewed. 

When  we  confronted  him  with  the  beast  the  scene 
was  beyond  description.  The  beast  doubled  backwards 
into  a  bow  as  though  he  had  been  poisoned  with  strych- 
nine, and  moaned  in  the  most  pitiable  fashion.  Several 
other  things  happened  also,  but  they  cannot  be  put  down 
here. 

'I  think  I  was  right,'  said  Strickland.  'Now  we  will 
ask  him  to  cure  this  case.' 

But  the  leper  only  mewed.  Strickland  wrapped  a 
towel  round  his  hand  and  took  the  gun-barrels  out  of  the 
fire.  I  put  the  half  of  the  broken  walking  stick  through 
the  loop  of  fishing-line  and  buckled  the  leper  comfortably 
to  Strickland's  bedstead.  I  understood  then  how  men 
and  women  and  little  children  can  endure  to  see  a  witch 
burnt  alive;  for  the  beast  was  moaning  on  the  floor,  and 
though  the  Silver  Man  had  no  face,  you  could  see  horrible 
feelings  passing  through  the  slab  that  took  its  place, 
exactly  as  waves  of  heat  play  across  red-hot  iron — gun- 
barrels  for  instance. 

Strickland  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hands  for  a 
moment  and  we  got  to  work.  This  part  is  not  to  be 
printed. 

The  dawn  was  beginning  to  break  when  the  leper 
spoke.  His  mewings  had  not  been  satisfactory  up  to 
that  point.  The  beast  had  fainted  from  exhaustion  and 
the  house  was  very  still.  We  unstrapped  the  leper  and 
told  him  to  take  away  the  evil  spirit.  He  crawled  to  the 


304  LIFE'S   HANDICAP 

beast  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  left  breast.  That  was 
all.  Then  he  fell  face  down  and  whined,  drawing  in  his 
breath  as  he  did  so. 

We  watched  the  face  of  the  beast,  and  saw  the  soul  of 
Fleete  coming  back  into  the  eyes.  Then  a  sweat  broke 
out  on  the  forehead  and  the  eyes — they  were  human  eyes 
— closed.  We  waited  for  an  hour  but  Fleete  still  slept. 
We  carried  him  to  his  room  and  bade  the  leper  go,  giving 
him  the  bedstead,  and  the  sheet  on  the  bedstead  to  cover 
his  nakedness,  the  gloves  and  the  towels  with  which  we 
had  touched  him,  and  the  whip  that  had  been  hooked 
round  his  body.  He  put  the  sheet  about  him  and 
went  out  into  the  early  morning  without  speaking  or 
mewing. 

Strickland  wiped  his  face  and  sat  down.  A  night- 
gong,  far  away  in  the  city,  made  seven  o'clock. 

'Exactly  four-and -twenty  hours!'  said  Strickland. 
'  And  I've  done  enough  to  ensure  my  dismissal  from  the 
service,  besides  permanent  quarters  in  a  lunatic  asylum. 
Do  you  believe  that  we  are  awake  ? ' 

The  red-hot  gun-barrel  had  fallen  on  the  floor  and 
was  singeing  the  carpet.  The  smell  was  entirely  real. 

That  morning  at  eleven  we  two  together  went  to 
wake  up  Fleete.  We  looked  and  saw  that  the  black 
leopard-rosette  on  his  chest  had  disappeared.  He  was 
very  drowsy  and  tired,  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  us,  he  said, 
'Oh!  Confound  you  fellows.  Happy  New  Year  to  you. 
Never  mix  your  liquors.  I'm  nearly  dead.' 

'Thanks  for  your  kindness,  but  you're  over  time,'  said 
Strickland.  '  To-day  is  the  morning  of  the  second. 
You've  slept  the  clock  round  with  a  vengeance.' 

The  door  opened,  and  little  Dumoise  put  his  head  in. 
He  had  come  on  foot,  and  fancied  that  we  were  laying 
out  Fleete. 


THE  MARK  OF  THE  BEAST  305 

'  I've  brought  a  nurse/  said  Dumoise.  '  I  suppose  that 
she  can  come  in  for  .  .  .  what  is  necessary.' 

'  By  all  means/  said  Fleete  cheerily,  sitting  up  in  bed. 
'  Bring  on  your  nurses.' 

Dumoise  was  dumb.  Strickland  led  him  out  and 
explained  that  there  must  have  been  a  mistake  in  the 
diagnosis.  Dumoise  remained  dumb  and  left  the  house 
hastily.  He  considered  that  his  professional  reputation 
had  been  injured,  and  was  inclined  to  make  a  personal 
matter  of  the  recovery.  Strickland  went  out  too.  When 
he  came  back,  he  said  that  he  had  been  to  call  on  the 
Temple  of  Hanuman  to  offer  redress  for  the  pollution  of 
the  god,  and  had  been  solemnly  assured  that  no  white 
man  had  ever  touched  the  idol  and  that  he  was  an  incar- 
nation of  all  the  virtues  labouring  under  a  delusion. 
'  What  do  you  think  ?'  said  Strickland. 

I  said,  '"There  are  more  things  .  .  ."' 

But  Strickland  hates  that  quotation.  He  says  that  I 
have  worn  it  threadbare. 

One  other  curious  tiling  happened  which  frightened 
me  as  much  as  anything  in  all  the  night's  work.  When 
Fleete  was  dressed  he  came  into  the  dining-room  and 
sniffed.  He  had  a  quaint  trick  of  moving  his  nose  when 
he  sniffed.  'Horrid  doggy  smell,  here,'  said  he.  'You 
should  really  keep  those  terriers  of  yours  in  better  order. 
Try  sulphur,  Strick.' 

But  Strickland  did  not  answer.  He  caught  hold  of 
the  back  of  a  chair,  and,  without  warning,  went  into  an 
amazing  fit  of  hysterics.  It  is  terrible  to  see  a  strong 
man  overtaken  with  hysteria.  Then  it  struck  me  that 
we  had  fought  for  Fleete's  soul  with  the  Silver  Man  in 
that  room,  and  had  disgraced  ourselves  as  Englishmen 
for  ever,  and  I  laughed  and  gasped  and  gurgled  just  as 
shamefully  as  Strickland,  while  Fleete  thought  that  we 


306  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

had  both  gone  mad.  We  never  told  him  what  we  had 
done. 

Some  years  later,  when  Strickland  had  married  and 
was  a  church-going  member  of  society  for  his  wife's  sake, 
we  reviewed  the  incident  dispassionately,  and  Strickland 
suggested  that  I  should  put  it  before  the  public. 

I  cannot  myself  see  that  this  step  is  likely  to  clear 
up  the  mystery;  because,  in  the  first  place,  no  one  will 
believe  a  rather  unpleasant  story,  and,  in  the  second,  it 
is  well  known  to  every  right-minded  man  that  the  gods 
of  the  heathen  are  stone  and  brass,  and  any  attempt  to 
deal  with  them  otherwise  is  justly  condemned. 


The  doors  were  wide,  the  story  saith, 
Out  of  the  night  came  the  patient  wraith, 
He  might  not  speak,  and  he  could  not  stir 
A  hair  of  the  Baron's  minniver — 
Speechless  and  strengthless,  a  shadow  thin, 
He  roved  the  castle  to  seek  his  kin. 
And  oh,  'twas  a  piteous  thing  to  see 
The  dumb  ghost  follow  his  euemy  ! 

The  Baron. 


IMRAY  achieved  the  impossible.  Without  warning,  for 
no  conceivable  motive,  in  his  youth,  at  the  threshold  of 
his  career  he  chose  to  disappear  from  the  world — which 
is  to  say,  the  little  Indian  station  where  he  lived. 

Upon  a  day  he  was  alive,  well,  happy,  and  in  great 
evidence  among  the  billiard-tables  at  his  Club.  Upon 
a  morning,  he  was  not,  and  no  manner  of  search  could 
make  sure  where  he  might  be.  He  had  stepped  out  of 
his  place;  he  had  not  appeared  at  his  office  at  the  proper 
time,  and  his  dogcart  was  not  upon  the  public  roads. 
For  these  reasons,  and  because  he  was  hampering,  in  a 
microscopical  degree,  the  administration  of  the  Indian 
Empire,  that  Empire  paused  for  one  microscopical  moment 
to  make  inquiry  into  the  fate  of  Imray.  Ponds  were 
dragged,  wells  were  plumbed,  telegrams  were  despatched 
down  the  lines  of  railways  and  to  the  nearest  seaport 
town — twelve  hundred  miles  away;  but  Imray  was  not 
at  the  end  of  the  drag-ropes  nor  the  telegraph  wires.  He 


308  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

was  gone,  and  his  place  knew  him  no  more.  Then  the 
work  of  the  great  Indian  Empire  swept  forward,  because 
it  could  not  be  delayed,  and  Imray  from  being  a  man 
became  a  mystery — such  a  thing  as  men  talk  over  at 
their  tables  in  the  Club  for  a  month,  and  then  forget 
utterly.  His  guns,  horses,  and  carts  were  sold  to  the 
highest  bidder.  His  superior  officer  wrote  an  alto- 
gether absurd  letter  to  his  mother,  saying  that  Imray 
had  unaccountably  disappeared,  and  his  bungalow  stood 
empty. 

After  three  or  four  months  of  the  scorching  hot 
weather  had  gone  by,  my  friend  Strickland,  of  the  Police, 
saw  fit  to  rent  the  bungalow  from  the  native  landlord. 
This  was  before  he  was  engaged  to  Miss  Youghal — an 
affair  which  has  been  described  in  another  place — and 
while  he  was  pursuing  his  investigations  into  native  life. 
His  own  life  was  sufficiently  peculiar,  and  men  com- 
plained of  his  manners  and  customs.  There  was  always 
food  in  his  house,  but  there  were  no  regular  times  for 
meals.  He  ate,  standing  up  and  walking  about,  whatever 
he  might  find  at  the  sideboard,  and  this  is  not  good  for 
human  beings.  His  domestic  equipment  was  limited  to 
six  rifles,  three  shot-guns,  five  saddles,  and  a  collection 
of  stiff-jointed  mahseer-rods,  bigger  and  stronger  than  the 
largest  salmon  -  rods.  These  occupied  one -half  of  his 
bungalow,  and  the  other  half  was  given  up  to  Strickland 
and  his  dog  Tietjens — an  enormous  Rampur  slut  who 
devoured  daily  the  rations  of  two  men.  She  spoke  to 
Strickland  in  a  language  of  her  own;  and  whenever,  walk- 
ing abroad,  she  saw  things  calculated  to  destroy  the 
peace  of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen -Empress,  she  returned 
to  her  master  and  laid  information.  Strickland  would 
take  steps  at  once,  and  the  end  of  his  labours  was  trouble 
and  fine  and  imprisonment  for  other  people.  The  natives 


THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  309 

believed  that  Tietjens  was  a  familiar  spirit,  and  treated 
her  with  the  great  reverence  that  is  born  of  hate  and 
fear.  One  room  in  the  bungalow  was  set  apart  for  her 
special  use.  She  owned  a  bedstead,  a  blanket,  and  a 
drinking-trough,  and  if  any  one  came  into  Strickland's 
room  at  night  her  custom  was  to  knock  down  the  invader 
and  give  tongue  till  some  one  came  with  a  light.  Strick- 
land owed  his  life  to  her,  when  he  was  on  the  Frontier, 
in  search  of  a  local  murderer,  who  came  in  the  gray  dawn 
to  send  Strickland  much  farther  than  the  Andaman 
Islands.  Tietjens  caught  the  man  as  he  was  crawling 
into  Strickland's  tent  with  a  dagger  between  his  teeth; 
and  after  his  record  of  iniquity  was  established  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law  he  was  hanged.  From  that  date  Tietjens 
wore  a  collar  of  rough  silver,  and  employed  a  monogram 
on  her  night-blanket;  and  the  blanket  was  of  double 
woven  Kashmir  cloth,  for  she  was  a  delicate  dog. 

Under  no  circumstances  would  she  be  separated  from 
Strickland;  and  once,  when  he  was  ill  with  fever,  made 
great  trouble  for  the  doctors,  because  she  did  not  know 
how  to  help  her  master  and  would  not  allow  another 
creature  to  attempt  aid.  Macarnaght,  of  tjie  Indian 
Medical  Service,  beat  her  over  her  head  with  a  gun-butt 
before  she  could  understand  that  she  must  give  room  for 
those  who  could  give  quinine. 

A  short  time  after  Strickland  had  taken  Im ray's 
bungalow,  my  business  took  me  through  that  Station, 
and  naturally,  the  Club  quarters  being  full,  I  quartered 
myself  upon  Strickland.  It  was  a  desirable  bungalow, 
eight-roomed  and  heavily  thatched  against  any  chance 
of  leakage  from  rain.  Under  the  pitch  of  the  roof  ran  a 
ceiling-cloth  which  looked  just  as  neat  as  a  white-washed 
ceiling.  The  landlord  had  repainted  it  when  Strickland 
took  the  bungalow.  Unless  you  knew  how  Indian  bunga- 


310  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

lows  were  built  you  would  never  have  suspected  that 
above  the  cloth  lay  the  dark  three-cornered  cavern  of  the 
roof,  where  the  beams  and  the  underside  of  the  thatch 
harboured  all  manner  of  rats,  bats,  ants,  and  foul  things. 

Tietjens  met  me  in  the  verandah  with  a  bay  like  the 
boom  of  the  bell  of  St.  Paul's,  putting  her  paws  on  my 
shoulder  to  show  she  was  glad  to  see  me.  Strickland 
had  contrived  to  claw  together  a  sort  of  meal  which  he 
called  lunch,  and  immediately  after  it  was  finished  went 
out  about  his  business.  I  was  left  alone  with  Tietjens 
and  my  own  affairs.  The  heat  of  the  summer  had  broken 
up  and  turned  to  the  warm  damp  of  the  rains.  There 
was  no  motion  in  the  heated  air,  but  the  rain  fell  like 
ramrods  on  the  earth,  and  flung  up  a  blue  mist  when  it 
splashed  back.  The  bamboos,  and  the  custard-apples,  the 
poinsettias,  and  the  mango-trees  in  the  garden  stood  still 
while  the  warm  water  lashed  through  them,  and  the  frogs 
began  to  sing  among  the  aloe  hedges.  A  little  before  the 
light  failed,  and  when  the  rain  was  at  its  worst,  I  sat  in 
the  back  verandah  and  heard  the  water  roar  from  the 
eaves,  and  scratched  myself  because  I  was  covered  with 
the  thing,  called  prickly-heat.  Tietjens  came  out  with 
me  and  put  her  head  in  my  lap  and  was  very  sorrowful; 
so  I  gave  her  biscuits  when  tea  was  ready,  and  I  took 
tea  in  the  back  verandah  on  account  of  the  little  coolness 
found  there.  The  rooms  of  the  house  were  dark  behind 
me.  I  could  smell  Strickland's  saddlery  and  the  oil  on 
his  guns,  and  I  had  no  desire  to  sit  among  these  things. 
My  own  servant  came  to  me  in  the  twilight,  the  muslin 
of  his  clothes  clinging  tightly  to  his  drenched  body,  and 
told  me  that  a  gentleman  had  called  and  wished  to  see 
some  one.  Very  much  against  my  will,  but  only  because 
of  the  darkness  of  the  rooms,  I  went  into  the  naked 
drawing-room,  telling  my  man  to  bring  the  lights.  There 


THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  311 

might  or  might  not  have  been  a  caller  waiting — it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  saw  a  figure  by  one  of  the  windows — but 
when  the  lights  came  there  was  nothing  save  the  spikes 
of  the  rain  without,  and  the  smell  of  the  drinking  earth 
in  my  nostrils.  I  explained  to  my  servant  that  he  was 
no  wiser  than  he  ought  to  be,  and  went  back  to  the  ver- 
andah to  talk  to  Tietjens.  She  had  gone  out  into  the 
wet,  and  I  could  hardly  coax  her  back  to  me;  even  with 
biscuits  with  sugar  tops.  Strickland  came  home,  dripping 
wet,  just  before  dinner,  and  the  first  thing  he  said  was, 

'Has  any  one  called  ?' 

I  explained,  with  apologies,  that  my  servant  had 
summoned  me  into  the  drawing-room  on  a  false  alarm; 
or  that  some  loafer  had  tried  to  call  on  Strickland,  and 
thinking  better  of  it  had  fled  after  giving  his  name. 
Strickland  ordered  dinner,  without  comment,  and  since  it 
was  a  real  dinner  with  a  white  tablecloth  attached,  we 
sat  down. 

At  nine  o'clock  Strickland  wanted  to  go  to  bed,  and 
I  was  tired  too.  Tietjens,  who  had  been  lying  under- 
neath the  table,  rose  up,  and  swung  into  the  least  exposed 
verandah  as  soon  as  her  master  moved  to  his  own  room, 
which  was  next  to  the  stately  chamber  set  apart  for 
Tietjens.  If  a  mere  wife  had  wished  to  sleep  out  of 
doors  in  that  pelting  rain  it  would  not  have  mattered  ; 
but  Tietjens  was  a  dog,  and  therefore  the  better  animal. 
I  looked  at  Strickland,  expecting  to  see  him  flay  her  with 
a  whip.  He  smiled  queerly,  as  a  man  would  smile  after 
telling  some  unpleasant  domestic  tragedy.  'She  has  done 
this  ever  since  I  moved  in  here/  said  he.  '  Let  her  go.' 

The  dog  was  Strickland's  dog,  so  I  said  nothing,  but 
I  felt  all  that  Strickland  felt  in  being  thus  made  light 
of.  Tietjens  encamped  outside  my  bedroom  window,  and 
storm  after  storm  came  up,  thundered  on  the  thatch, 


312  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

and  died  away.  The  lightning  spattered  the  sky  as  a 
thrown  egg  spatters  a  barn-door,  but  the  light  was  pale 
blue,  not  yellow  ;  and,  looking  through  my  split  bamboo 
blinds,  I  could  see  the  great  dog  standing,  not  sleeping, 
in  the  verandah,  the  hackles  alift  on  her  back  and  her  feet 
anchored  as  tensely  as  the  drawn  wire-rope  of  a  suspension 
bridge.  In  the  very  short  pauses  of  the  thunder  I  tried 
to  sleep,  but  it  seemed  that  some  one  wanted  me  very 
urgently.  He,  whoever  lie  was,  was  trying  to  call  me  by 
name,  but  his  voice  was  no  more  than  a  husky  whisper. 
The  thunder  ceased,  and  Tietjens  went  into  the  garden 
and  howled  at  the  low  moon.  Somebody  tried  to  open 
my  door,  walked  about  and  about  through  the  house  and 
stood  breathing  heavily  in  the  verandahs,  and  just  when 
I  was  falling  asleep  I  fancied  that  I  heard  a  wild  ham- 
mering and  clamouring  above  my  head  or  on  the  door. 

I  ran  into  Strickland's  room  and  asked  him  whether 
he  was  ill,  and  had  been  calling  for  me.  He  was  lying 
on  his  bed  half  dressed,  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  'I  thought 
you'd  come,'  he  said.  '  Have  I  been  walking  round  the 
house  recently?' 

I  explained  that  he  had  been  tramping  in  the  dining- 
room  and  the  smoking-room  and  two  or  three  other  places; 
and  he  laughed  and  told  me  to  go  back  to  bed.  I  went 
back  to  bed  and  slept  till  the  morning,  but  through  all 
my  mixed  dreams  I  was  sure  I  was  doing  some  one  an 
injustice  in  not  attending  to  his  wants.  What  those 
wants  were  I  could  not  tell;  but  a  fluttering,  whispering, 
bolt-fumbling,  lurking,  loitering  Someone  was  reproach- 
ing me  for  my  slackness,  and,  half  awake,  I  heard  the 
howling  of  Tietjens  in  the  garden  and  the  threshing  of  the 
rain. 

I  lived  in  that  house  for  two  days.  Strickland  went 
to  his  office  daily,  leaving  me  alone  for  eight  or  ten  hours 


THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  313 

with  Tietjens  for  my  only  companion.  As  long  as  the 
full  light  lasted  I  was  comfortable,  and  so  was  Tietjens; 
but  in  the  twilight  she  and  I  moved  into  the  back 
verandah  and  cuddled  each  other  for  company.  We 
were  alone  in  the  house,  but  none  the  less  it  was  much 
too  fully  occupied  by  a  tenant  with  whom  I  did  not  wish 
to  interfere.  I  never  saw  him,  but  I  could  see  the 
curtains  between  the  rooms  quivering  where  he  had  just 
passed  through;  I  could  hear  the  chairs  creaking  as  the 
bamboos  sprung  under  a  weight  that  had  just  quitted 
them ;  and  I  could  feel  when  I  went  to  get  a  book  from 
the  dining-room  that  somebody  was  waiting  in  the 
shadows  of  the  front  verandah  till  I  should  have  gone 
away.  Tietjens  made  the  twilight  more  interesting  by 
glaring  into  the  darkened  rooms  with  every  hair  erect, 
and  following  the  motions  of  something  that  I  could  not 
see.  She  never  entered  the  rooms,  but  her  eyes  moved 
interestedly:  that  was  quite  sufficient.  Only  when  my 
servant  came  to  trim  the  lamps  and  make  all  light  and 
habitable  she  would  come  in  with  me  and  spend  her  time 
sitting  on  her  haunches,  watching  an  invisible  extra  man 
as  he  moved  about  behind  my  shoulder.  Dogs  are 
cheerful  companions. 

I  explained  to  Strickland,  gently  as  might  be,  that  I 
would  go  over  to  the  Club  and  find  for  myself  quarters 
there.  I  admired  his  hospitality,  was  pleased  with  his 
guns  and  rods,  but  I  did  not  much  care  for  his  house  and 
its  atmosphere.  He  heard  me  out  to  the  end,  and  then 
smiled  very  wearily,  but  without  contempt,  for  he  is  a 
man  who  understands  things.  'Stay  on,'  he  said,  'and 
see  what  this  thing  means.  All  you  have  talked  about 
I  have  known  since  I  took  the  bungalow.  Stay  on  and 
wait.  Tietjens  has  left  me.  Are  you  going  too  ?' 

I   had  seen,  him  through  one  little   affair,  connected 


314  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

with  a  heathen  idol,  that  h:id  brought  me  to  the  doors 
of  a  lunatic  asylum,  and  I  had  no  desire  to  help  him 
through  further  experiences.  He  was  a  man  to  whom 
unpleasantnesses  arrived  as  do  dinners  to  ordinary 
people. 

Therefore  I  explained  more  clearly  than  ever  that  I 
liked  him  immensely,  and  would  be  happy  to  see  him  in 
the  daytime;  but  that  I  did  not  care  to  sleep  under  his 
roof.  This  was  after  dinner,  when  Tietjens  had  gone  out 
to  lie  in  the  verandah. 

'  'Pon  my  soul,  I  don't  wonder,'  said  Strickland,  with 
his  eyes  on  the  ceiling-cloth.  *  Look  at  that!' 

The  tails  of  two  brown  snakes  were  hanging  between 
the  cloth  and  the  cornice  of  the  wall.  They  threw  long 
shadows  in  the  lamplight. 

'If  you  are  afraid  of  snakes  of  course '  said 

Strickland. 

I  hate  and  fear  snakes,  because  if  you  look  into  the 
eyes  of  any  snake  you  will  see  that  it  knows  all  and 
more  of  the  mystery  of  man's  fall,  and  that  it  feels  all 
the  contempt  that  the  Devil  felt  when  Adam  was  evicted 
from  Eden.  Besides  which  its  bite  is  generally  fatal, 
and  it  twists  up  trouser  legs. 

'You  ought  to  get  your  thatch  overhauled,'  I  said. 
'Give  me  a  mahseer-rod,  and  we'll  poke  'em  down.' 

'  They'll  hide  among  the  roof-beams,'  said  Strickland. 
'I  can't  stand  snakes  overhead.  I'm  going  up  into  the 
roof.  If  I  shake  'em  down,  stand  by  with  a  cleaning-rod 
and  break  their  backs.' 

I  was  not  anxious  to  assist  Strickland  in  his  work, 
but  I  took  the  cleaning-rod  and  waited  in  the  dining- 
room,  while  Strickland  brought  a  gardener's  ladder  from 
the  verandah,  and  set  it  against  the  side  of  the  room. 
The  snake-tails  drew  themselves  up  and  disappeared. 


THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  315 

We  could  hear  the  dry  rushing  scuttle  of  long  bodies 
running  over  the  baggy  ceiling-cloth.  Strickland  took  a 
lump  with  him,  while  I  tried  to  make  clear  to  him  the 
danger  of  hunting  roof-snakes  between  a  ceiling-cloth  and 
a  thatch,  apart  from  the  deterioration  of  property  caused 
by  ripping  out  ceiling-cloths. 

' Nonsense! '  said  Strickland.  'They're  sure  to  hide 
near  the  walls  by  the  cloth.  The  bricks  are  Loo  cold  for 
'em,  and  the  heat  of  the  room  is  just  what  they  like/ 
He  put  his  hand  to  the  corner  of  the  stuff  and  ripped  it 
from  the  cornice.  It  gave  with  a  great  sound  of  tearing, 
and  Strickland  put  his  head  through  the  opening  into  the 
dark  of  the  angle  of  the  roof-beams.  I  set  my  teeth  and 
lifted  the  rod,  for  I  had  not  the  least  knowledge  of  what 
might  descend. 

'H'm!'  said  Strickland,  and  his  voice  rolled  and 
rumbled  in  the  roof.  '  There's  room  for  another  set  of 
rooms  up  here,  and,  by  Jove,  some  one  is  occupying  'em! ' 

'  Snakes  ? '  I  said  from  below. 

'No.  It's  a  buffalo.  Hand  me  up  the  two  last 
joints  of  a  mahseer-rod,  and  I'll  prod  it.  It's  lying  on 
the  main  roof-beam.' 

I  handed  up  the  rod. 

'What  a  nest  for  owls  and  serpents!  No  wonder 
the  snakes  live  here/  said  Strickland,  climbing  farther 
into  the  roof.  I  could  see  his  elbow  thrusting  with  the 
rod.  'Come  out  of  that,  whoever  you  are!  Heads 
below  there!  It's  falling/ 

I  saw  the  ceiling  cloth  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  bag  with  a  shape  that  was  pressing  it  downwards 
and  downwards  towards  the  lighted  lamp  on  the  table. 
I  snatched  the  lamp  out  of  danger  and  stood  back.  Then 
the  cloth  ripped  out  from  the  walls,  tore,  split,  swayed, 
and  shot  down  upon  the  table  something  that  I  dared 


316  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

not  look  at,  till  Strickland  hud  slid  down  the  ladder  and 
was  standing  by  my  side. 

He  did  not  say  much,  being  a  man  of  few  words;  but 
he  picked  up  the  loose  end  of  the  tablecloth  and  threw 
it  over  the  remnants  on  the  table. 

'It  strikes  me,'  said  he,  putting  down  the  lamp,  'our 
friend  Imray  has  come  back.  Oh!  you  would,  would 
you?' 

There  was  a  movement  under  the  cloth,  and  a  little 
snake  wriggled  out,  to  be  back-broken  by  the  butt  of  the 
mah seer-rod.  1  was  sufficiently  sick  to  make  no  remarks 
worth  recording. 

Strickland  meditated,  and  helped  himself  to  drinks. 
The  arrangement  under  the  cloth  made  no  more  signs  of 
life. 

'Is  it  Imray?'  I  said. 

Strickland  turned  back  the  cloth  for  a  moment,  and 
looked. 

'  It  is  Imray,'  he  said;  'and  his  throat  is  cut  from  ear 
to  ear.' 

Then  we  spoke,  both  together  and  to  ourselves:  'That's 
why  he  whispered  about  the  house.' 

Tietjens,  in  the  garden,  began  to  bay  furiously.  A 
little  later  her  great  nose  heaved  open  the  dining-room  door. 

She  snuffed  and  was  still.  The  tattered  ceiling-cloth 
hung  down  almost  to  the  level  of  the  table,  and  there 
was  hardly  room  to  move  away  from  the  discovery. 

Tietjens  came  in  and  sat  down;  her  teeth  bared  under 
her  lip  and  her  forepaws  planted.  She  looked  at 
Strickland. 

'  It's  a  bad  business,  old  lady,'  said  he.  '  Men  don't 
climb  up  into  the  roofs  of  their  bungalows  to  die,  and 
they  don't  fasten  up  the  ceiling  cloth  behind  'em.  Let's 
think  it  out.' 


THE   RETURN   OF  IMRAY  317 

'  Let's  think  it  out  somewhere  else/  I  said. 

1  Excellent  idea!  Turn  the  lamps  out.  We'll  get 
into  my  room.' 

I  did  not  turn  the  lamps  out.  I  went  into  Strickland's 
room  first,  and  allowed  him  to  make  the  darkness.  Then 
he  followed  me,  and  we  lit  tobacco  and  thought.  Strick- 
land thought.  I  smoked  furiously,  because  I  was  afraid. 

'Imray  is  back,'  said  Strickland.  '  The  question  is— 
who  killed  Imray?  Don't  talk,  I've  a  notion  of  my  own. 
When  I  took  this  bungalow  I  took  over  most  of  Imray's 
servants.  Imray  was  guileless  and  inoffensive,  wasn't  he?' 

I  agreed;  though  the  heap  under  the  cloth  had  looked 
neither  one  thing  nor  the  other. 

'  If  I  call  in  all  the  servants  they  will  stand  fast  in  a 
crowd  and  lie  like  Aryans.  What  do  you  suggest?' 

'  Call  'em  in  one  by  one,'  I  said. 

'They'll  run  away  and  give  the  news  to  all  their 
fellows,'  said  Strickland.  *  We  must  segregate  'em.  Do 
you  suppose  your  servant  knows  anything  about  it  ?' 

'He  may,  for  aught  I  know;  but  I  don't  think  it's 
likely.  He  has  only  been  here  two  or  three  days,'  I 
answered.  '  What's  your  notion  ?  ' 

'I  can't  quite  tell.  How  the  dickens  did  the  man  get 
the  wrong  side  of  the  ceiling-cloth  ?' 

There  was  a  heavy  coughing  outside  Strickland's 
bedroom  door.  This  showed  that  Bahadur  Khan,  his 
body-servant,  had  waked  from  sleep  and  wished  to  put 
Strickland  to  bed. 

'  Come  in,'  said  Strickland.  '  It's  a  very  warm  night, 
isn't  it  ? ' 

Bahadur  Khan,  a  great,  green-turbaned,  six-foot 
Mahomedan,  said  that  it  was  a  very  warm  night;  but 
that  there  was  more  rain  pending,  which,  by  his  Honour's 
favour,  would  bring  relief  to  the  country. 


318  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'It  will  be  so,  if  God  pleases,'  said  Strickland,  tugging 
off  his  boots.  'It  is  in  my  mind,  Bahadur  Khan,  that  I 
have  worked  thee  remorselessly  for  many  days — ever 
since  that  time  when  thou  first  earnest  into  my  service. 
What  time  was  that  ? ' 

'Has  the  Heaven-born  forgotten?  It  was  when 
I m ray  Sahib  wont  secretly  to  Europe  without  warning 
given;  and  I — even  I — came  into  the  honoured  service 
of  the  protectoi  of  the  poor.' 

'And  I  in  ray  Sahib  went  to  Europe?' 

'  It  is  so  said  among  those  who  were  his  servants. 

'And  thou  wilt  take  service  with  him  when  he 
returns?' 

'Assuredly,  Sahib.  He  was  a  good  master,  and 
cherished  his  dependants.' 

'  That  is  true.  I  am  very  tired,  but  I  go  buck-shooting 
to-morrow.  Give  me  the  little  sharp  rifle  that  1  use  for 
black-buck;  it  is  in  the  case  yonder/ 

The  man  stooped  over  the  case ;  handed  barrels,  stock, 
and  fore-end  to  Strickland,  who  fitted  all  together,  yawn- 
ing dolefully.  Then  he  reached  down  to  the  gun-case, 
took  a  solid-drawn  cartridge,  and  slipped  it  into  the 
breech  of  the  '300  Express. 

'  And  Imray  Sahib  has  gone  to  Europe  secretly  ! 
That  is  very  strange,  Bahadur  Khan,  is  it  not?' 

'  What  do  I  know  of  the  ways  of  the  white  man, 
Heaven-born  ? ' 

'Very  little,  truly.  But  thou  shalt  know  more  anon. 
It  has  reached  me  that  Imray  Sahib  has  returned  from 
his  so  long  journey  ings,  and  that  even  now  he  lies  in  the 
next  room,  waiting  his  servant.' 

'Sahib!' 

The  lamplight  slid  along  the  barrels  of  the  rifle  as 
they  levelled  themselves  at  Bahadur  Khan's  broad  breast. 


THE   RETURN   OF  IMRAY  319 

'Go  and  look!'  said  Strickland.  'Take  a  lamp.  Thy 
master  is  tired,  and  he  waits  thee.  Go  ! ' 

The  man  picked  up  a  lamp,  and  went  into  the  dining- 
room,  Strickland  following,  and  almost  pushing  him  with 
the  muzzle  of  the  rifle.  He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the 
black  depths  behind  the  ceiling-cloth;  at  the  writhing 
snake  under  foot  ;  and  last,  a  gray  glaze  settling  on  his 
face,  at  the  thing  under  the  tablecloth. 

'Hast  thou  seen  ?'  said  Strickland  after  a  pause. 

'  I  have  seen.  I  am  clay  in  the  white  man's  hands. 
What  does  the  Presence  do  ? ' 

'  Hang  thee  within  the  month.     What  else  ? ' 

'For  killing  him?  Nay,  Sahib,  consider.  Walking 
among  us,  his  servants,  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  my  child, 
who  was  four  years  old.  Him  he  bewitched,  and  in  ten 
days  he  died  of  the  fever — my  child  !' 

'  What  said  Imray  Sahib  ? ' 

'  He  said  he  was  a  handsome  child,  and  patted  him  on 
the  head  ;  wherefore  my  child  died.  Wherefore  I  killed 
Imray  Sahib  in  the  twilight,  when  he  had  come  back  from 
office,  and  was  sleeping.  Wherefore  I  dragged  him  up 
into  the  roof-beams  and  made  all  fast  behind  him.  The 
Heaven-born  knows  all  things.  I  am  the  servant  of  the 
Heaven-born.' 

Strickland  looked  at  me  above  the  rifle,  and  said,  in 
the  vernacular,  '  Thou  art  witness  to  this  saying  ?  He  has 
killed.' 

Bahadur  Khan  stood  ashen  gray  in  the  light  of  the 
one  lamp.  The  need  for  justification  came  upon  him  very 
swiftly.  'I  am  trapped,'  he  said,  'but  the  offence  was 
that  man's.  He  cast  an  evil  eye  upon  my  child,  and  I 
killed  and  hid  him.  Only  such  as  are  served  by  devils,' 
he  glared  at  Tietjens,  couched  stolidly  before  him,  '  only 
such  could  know  what  I  did.' 


320  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  It  was  clever.  But  thon  shouldst  have  lashed  him 
to  the  beam  with  a  rope.  Now,  thou  thyself  wilt  hang 
by  a  rope.  Orderly  ! ' 

A  drowsy  policeman  answered  Strickland's  call.  He 
was  followed  by  another,  and  Tietjens  sat  wondrous  still. 

'  Take  him  to  the  police-station/  said  Strickland. 
'  There  is  a  case  toward.' 

'  Do  I  hang,  then  ? '  said  Bahadur  Khan,  making  no 
attempt  to  escape,  and  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 

*  If  the    sun    shines   or   the    water    runs — yes  ! '   said 
Strickland. 

Bahadur  Khan  stepped  back  one  long  pace,  quivered, 
and  stood  still.  The  two  policemen  waited  further 
orders. 

<  Go  ! '  said  Strickland. 

*  Nay  ;  but   I   go   very  swiftly,'  said  Bahadur  Khan. 
'  Look  !     I  am  even  now  a  dead  man.' 

lie  lifted  his  foot,  and  to  the  little  toe  there  clung  the 
head  of  the  half-killed  snake,  firm  fixed  in  the  agony  of 
death. 

'  I  come  of  land-holding  stock/  said  Bahadur  Khan, 
rocking  where  he  stood.  '  It  were  a  disgrace  to  me  to 
go  to  the  public  scaffold :  therefore  I  take  this  way.  Be 
it  remembered  that  the  Sahib's  shirts  are  correctly  enu- 
merated, and  that  there  is  an  extra  piece  of  soap  in  his 
washbasin.  My  child  was  bewitched,  and  I  slew  the 
wizard.  Why  should  you  seek  to  slay  me  with  the  rope  ? 
My  honour  is  saved,  and — and — I  die.' 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  died,  as  they  die  who  are 
bitten  by  the  little  brown  karait,  and  the  policemen  bore 
him  and  the  thing  under  the  tablecloth  to  their  appointed 
places.  All  were  needed  to  make  clear  the  disappear- 
ance of  Imray. 

'This,'  said    Strickland,  very   calmly,  as   he   climbed 


THE  RETURN  OF  IMRAY  321 

into  bed,  *  is  called  the  nineteenth  century.  Did  you  hear 
what  that  man  said  ?  ' 

'  I  heard/  I  answered.     '  Imray  made  a  mistake.' 

1  Simply  and  solely  through  not  knowing  the  nature 
of  the  Oriental,  and  the  coincidence  of  a  little  seasonal 
fever.  Bahadur  Khan  had  been  with  him  for  four  years.' 

I  shuddered.  My  own  servant  had  been  with  me  for 
exactly  that  length  of  time.  When  I  went  over  to  my 
own  room  I  found  my  man  waiting,  impassive  as  the 
copper  head  on  a  penny,  to  pull  off  my  boots. 

'  What  has  befallen  Bahadur  Khan  ?  '  said  I. 

'  He  was  bitten  by  a  snake  and  died.  The  rest  the 
Sahib  knows,'  was  the  answer. 

*  And  how  much  of  this  matter  hast  thou  known  ? ' 

'As  much  as  might  be  gathered  from  One  coming  in 
in  the  twilight  to  seek  satisfaction.  Gently,  Sahib.  Let 
me  pull  off  those  boots.' 

I  had  just  settled  to  the  sleep  of  exhaustion  when  I 
heard  Strickland  shouting  from  his  side  of  the  house — 

'  Tietjens  has  come  back  to  her  place  ! ' 

And  so  she  had.  The  great  deerhound  was  couched 
statelily  on  her  own  bedstead  on  her  own  blanket,  while, 
in  the  next  room,  the  idle,  empty,  ceiling-cloth  waggled 
as  it  trailed  on  the  table. 


NAMGAY    DOOLA 

There  came  to  the  beach  a  poor  exile  of  Erin, 

The  dew  on  his  wet  robe  hung  heavy  and  chill ; 

Ere  the  steamer  that  brought  him  had  passed  out  of  hearin', 

He  was  Alderman  Mike  iuthrojuicin'  a  bill ! 

American  Sony. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  King  who  lived  on  the 
road  to  Thibet,  very  many  miles  in  the  Himalayas.  His 
Kingdom  was  eleven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea  and 
exactly  four  miles  square;  but  most  of  the  miles  stood 
on  end  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  country.  His  revenues 
were  rather  less  than  four  hundred  pounds  yearly,  and 
they  were  expended  in  the  maintenance  of  one  elephant 
and  a  standing  army  of  five  men.  He  was  tributary  to 
the  Indian  Government,  who  allowed  him  certain  sums 
for  keeping  a  section  of  the  Himalaya-Thibet  road  in 
repair.  He  further  increased  his  revenues  by  selling 
timber  to  the  railway-companies;  for  he  would  cut  the 
great  deodar  trees  in  his  one  forest,  and  they  fell  thunder- 
ing into  the  Sutlej  river  and  were  swept  down  to  the 
plains  three  hundred  miles  away  and  became  railway-ties. 
Now  and  again  this  King,  whose  name  does  not  matter, 
would  mount  a  ringstraked  horse  and  ride  scores  of  miles 
to  Simla-town  to  confer  with  the  Lieutenant-Goveruor  on 
matters  of  state,  or  to  assure  the  Viceroy  that  his  sword 
was  at  the  service  of  the  Queen-Empress.  Then  the 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  323 

Viceroy  would  cause  a  ruffle  of  drums  to  be  sounded,  and 
the  ringstraked  horse  and  the  cavalry  of  the  State — two 
men  in  tatters — and  the  herald  who  bore  the  silver  stick 
before  the  King  would  trot  back  to  their  own  place,  which 
lay  between  the  tail  of  a  heaven-climbing  glacier  and  a 
dark  birch-forest. 

Now,  from  such  a  King,  always  remembering  that  he 
possessed  one  veritable  elephant,  and  could  count  his 
descent  for  twelve  hundred  years,  I  expected,  when  it  was 
my  fate  to  wander  through  his  dominions,  no  more  than 
mere  license  to  live. 

The  night  had  closed  in  rain,  and  rolling  clouds 
blotted  out  the  lights  of  the  villages  in  the  valley.  Forty 
miles  away,  untouched  by  cloud  or  storm,  the  white 
shoulder  of  Donga  Pa — the  Mountain  of  the  Council  of 
the  Gods — upheld  the  Evening  Star.  The  monkeys  sang 
sorrowfully  to  each  other  as  they  hunted  for  dry  roosts 
in  the  fern-wreathed  trees,  and  the  last  puff  of  the  day- 
wind  brought  from  the  unseen  villages  the  scent  of  damp 
wood-smoke,  hot  cakes,  dripping  undergrowth, and  rotting 
pine-cones.  That  is  the  true  smell  of  the  Himalayas, 
and  if  once  it  creeps  into  the  blood  of  a  man,  that  man 
will  at  the  last,  forgetting  all  else,  return  to  the  hills  to 
die.  The  clouds  closed  and  the  smell  went  away,  and 
there  remained  nothing  in  all  the  world  except  chilling 
white  mist  and  the  boom  of  the  Sutlej  river  racing  through 
the  valley  below.  A  fat-tailed  sheep,  who  did  not  want 
to  die,  bleated  piteously  at  my  tent  door.  lie  was 
scuffling  with  the  Prime  Minister  and  the  Director- 
General  of  Public  Education,  and  he  was  a  royal  gift  to 
me  and  my  camp  servants.  I  expressed  my  thanks  suit- 
ably, and  asked  if  I  might  have  audience  of  the  King. 
The  Prime  Minister  readjusted  his  turban,  which  had  fallen 
off  in  the  struggle,  and  assured  me  that  the  King  would 


324  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

be  very  pleased  to  see  me.  Therefore  I  despatched  two 
bottles  as  a  foretaste,  and  when  the  sheep  had  entered 
upon  another  incarnation  went  to  the  King's  Palace 
through  the  wet.  He  had  sent  his  army  to.  escort  me, 
but  the  army  stayed  to  talk  with  my  cook.  Soldiers  are 
very  much  alike  all  the  world  over. 

The  Palace  was  a  four- roomed,  and  whitewashed  mud 
and  timber  house,  the  finest  in  all  the  hills  for  a  day's 
journey.  The  King  was  dressed  in  a  purple  velvet  jacket, 
white  muslin  trousers,  and  a  saffron-yellow  turban  of 
price.  He  gave  me  audience  in  a  little  carpeted  room 
opening  off  the  palace  courtyard  which  was  occupied  by 
the  Elephant  of  State.  The  great  beast  was  sheeted  and 
anchored  from  trunk  to  tail,  and  the  curve  of  his  back 
stood  out  grandly  against  the  mist. 

The  Prime  Minister  and  the  Director-General  of  Public 
Education  were  present  to  introduce  me,  but  all  the 
court  had  been  dismissed,  lest  the  two  bottles  aforesaid 
should  corrupt  their  morals.  The  King  cast  a  wreath  of 
heavy  scented  flowers  round  my  neck  as  I  bowed,  and 
inquired  how  my  honoured  presence  had  the  felicity  to 
be.  I  said  that  through  seeing  his  auspicious  counte- 
nance the  mists  of  the  night  had  turned  into  sunshine, 
and  that  by  reason  of  his  beneficent  sheep  his  good 
deeds  would  be  remembered  by  the  Gods.  He  said  that 
since  I  had  set  my  magnificent  foot  in  his  Kingdom  the 
crops  would  probably  yield  seventy  per  cent  more  than 
the  average.  I  said  that  the  fame  of  the  King  had 
reached  to  the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  and  that  the 
nations  gnashed  their  teeth  when  they  heard  daily  of  the 
glories  of  his  realm  and  the  wisdom  of  his  moon-like 
Prime  Minister  and  lotus-like  Director-General  of  Public 
Education. 

Then  we  sat  down  on  clean  white  cushions,  and  I  was 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  325 

at  the  King's  right  hand.  Three  minutes  later  he  was 
telling  me  tlwt  the  state  of  the  maize  crop  was  something 
disgraceful,  and  that  the  railway-companies  would  not  pay 
him  enough  for  his  timber.  The  talk  shifted  to  and  fro 
with  the  bottles,  and  we  discussed  very  many  stately  things, 
and  the  King  became  confidential  on  the  subject  of  Gov- 
ernment generally.  Most  of  all  he  dwelt  on  the  short- 
comings of  one  of  his  subjects,  who,  from  all  I  could  gather, 
had  been  paralyzing  the  executive. 

'In  the  old  days,'  said  the  King,  '  I  could  have  ordered 
the  Elephant  yonder  to  trample  him  to  death.  Now  I 
must  e'en  send  him  seventy  miles  across  the  hills  to  be 
tried,  and  his  keep  would  be  upon  the  State.  The 
Elephant  eats  everything.' 

'What  be  the  man's  crimes,  Rajah  Sahib  ?'  said  I. 

'Firstly,  he  is  an  outlander  and  no  man  of  mine  own 
people.  Secondly,  since  of  my  favour  I  gave  him  land 
upon  his  first  coming,  he  refuses  to  pay  revenue.  Am  I 
not  the  lord  of  the  earth,  above  and  below,  entitled  bv 
right  and  custom  to  one-eighth  of  the  crop  ?  Yet  this 
devil,  establishing  himself,  refuses  to  pay  a  single  tax;  and 
he  brings  a  poisonous  spawn  of  babes.' 

'Cast  him  into  jail,'  I  said. 

'Sahib,'  the  King  answered,  shifting  a  little  on  the 
cushions,  'once  and  only  once  in  these  forty  years  sick- 
ness came  upon  me  so  that  I  was  not  able  to  go  abroad. 
In  that  hour  I  made  a  vow  to  my  God  that  I  would  never 
again  cut  man  or  woman  from  the  light  of  the  sun  and 
the  air  of  God;  for  I  perceived  the  nature  of  the  punish- 
ment. How  can  I  break  my  vow?  Were  it  onty  the 
lopping  of  a  hand  or  a  foot  I  should  not  delay.  But  even 
that  is  impossible  now  that  the  English  have  rule.  One 
or  another  of  my  people' — he  looked  obliquely  at  the 
Director-General  of  Public  Education — '  would  at  once 


326  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

write  a  letter  to  the  Viceroy,  and  perhaps  T    hould  be 
deprived  of  my  ruffle  of  drums.' 

He  unscrewed  the  mouthpiece  of  his  silver  water 
pipe,  fitted  a  plain  amber  mouthpiece,  and  passed  hi.* 
pipe  to  me.  'Not  content  with  refusing  revenue,'  he 
continued,  'this  outlander  refuses  also  the  begar'  (this 
was  the  corvee  or  forced  labour  on  the  roads)  'and  stirs 
my  people  up  to  the  like  treason.  Yet  he  is,  when  he 
wills,  an  expert  log-snatcher.  There  is  none  better  or 
bolder  among  my  people  to  clear  a  block  of  the  river  when 
the  logs  stick  fast.' 

'But  he  worships  strange  Gods,'  said  the  Prime  Mini- 
ster deferentially. 

'For  that  I  have  no  concern,'  said  the  King,  who  was 
as  tolerant  as  Akbar  in  matters  of  belief.  '  To  each  man 
his  own  God  and  the  fire  or  Mother  Earth  for  us  all  at 
last.  It  is  the  rebellion  that  offends  me/ 

'The  King  has  an  army,'  I  suggested.  'Has  not  the 
King  burned  the  man's  house  and  left  him  naked  to  the 
night  dews?' 

'May,  a  hut  is  a  hut,  and  it  holds  the  life  of  a  man. 
But  once,  I  sent  my  army  against  him  when  his  excuses 
became  wearisome:  of  their  heads  he  brake  three  across 
the  top  with  a  stick.  The  other  two  men  ran  away. 
Also  the  guns  would  not  shoot.' 

I  had  seen  the  equipment  of  the  infantry.  One  third 
of  it  was  an  old  muzzle-loading  fowling-piere,  with  a 
ragged  rust-hole  where  the  nipples  should  have  been, 
one-third  a  wire  bound  matchlock  with  a  worm-eaten 
stock,  and  one -third  a  four-bore  flint  duck -gun  without  a 
flint. 

'  But  it  is  to  be  remembered,'  said  the  King,  reaching  out 
for  the  bottle,  'that  he  is  a  very  expert  log-snatcher  and  a 
man  of  a  merry  face.  What  shall  I  do  to  him,  Sahib  ?' 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  327 

This  was  interesting.  The  timid  hill-folk  would  as 
soon  have  refused  taxes  to  their  king  as  revenues  to  their 
Gods. 

'If  it  be  the  King's  permission,'  I  said,  'I  will  not 
strike  my  tents  till  the  third  day  and  I  will  see  this  man. 
The  mercy  of  the  King  is  God-like,  and  rebellion  is  like 
unto  the  sin  of  witchcraft.  Moreover,  both  the  bottles 
and  another  be  empty.' 

'You  have  my  leave  to  go,'  said  the  King. 

Next  morning  a  crier  went  through  the  state  pro- 
claiming that  there  was  a  log-jam  on  the  river  and  that 
it  behoved  all  loyal  subjects  to  remove  it.  The  people 
poured  down  from  their  villages  to  the  moist  warm  valley 
of  poppy-fields  ;  and  the  King  and  I  went  with  them. 
Hundreds  of  dressed  deodar-logs  had  caught  on  a  snag  of 
rock,  and  the  river  was  bringing  down  more  logs  every 
minute  to  complete  the  blockade.  The  water  snarled 
and  wrenched  and  worried  at  the  timber,  and  the  popu- 
lation of  the  state  began  prodding  the  nearest  logs  with  a 
pole  in  the  hope  of  starting  a  general  movement.  Then 
there  went  up  a  shout  of  '  Nam  gay  Doola  !  Namgay 
Doola!'  and  a  large  red-haired  villager  hurried  up, 
stripping  off  his  clothes  as  he  ran. 

'That  is  he.  That  is  the  rebel,'  said  the  King.  'Now 
will  the  dam  be  cleared.' 

'  But  why  has  he  red  hair?'  I  asked,  since  red  hair 
among  hill-folks  is  as  common  as  blue  or  green. 

'He  is  an  outlander,'  said  the  King.  '  Well  done  !  Oh 
well  done  ! ' 

Namgay  Doola  had  scrambled  out  on  the  jam  and  was 
clawing  out  the  butt  of  a  log  with  a  rude  sort  of  boat- 
hook.  It  slid  forward  slowly  as  an  alligator  moves, 
three  or  four  others  followed  it,  and  the  green  water 
spou toil  through  the  gaps  they  had  made.  Then  the 


328  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

villagers  howled  and  shouted  and  scrambled  across  tho 
logs,  pulling  and  pushing  the  obstinate  timber,  and  the 
red  head  of  Namgay  Doola  was  chief  among  them  all. 
The  logs  swayed  and  chafed  and  groaned  as  fresh  con- 
signments from  upstream  battered  the  now  weakening 
dam.  All  gave  way  at  last  in  a  smother  of  foam,  racing 
logs,  bobbing  black  heads  and  confusion  indescribable. 
The  river  tossed  everything  before  it.  I  saw  the  red 
head  go  down  with  the  last  remnants  of  the  jam  and 
disappear  between  the  great  grinding  tree-trunks.  It 
rose  close  to  the  bank  and  blowing  like  a  grampus. 
Namgay  Doola  wrung  the  water  out  of  his  eyes  and 
made  obeisance  to  the  King.  I  had  time  to  observe 
him  closely.  The  virulent  redness  of  his  shock  head 
and  beard  was  most  startling  ;  and  in  the  thicket  of 
hair  wrinkled  above  high  cheek  bones  shone  two  verv 
merry  blue  eyes.  He  was  indeed  an  outlander,  but  yet 
a  Thibetan  in  language,  habit,  and  attire.  He  spoke  the 
Lepcha  dialect  with  an  indescribable  softening  of  the 
gutturals.  It  was  not  so  much  a  lisp  as  an  accent. 

*  Whence  comest  thou  ?  '  I  asked. 

'  From  Thibet.'  He  pointed  across  the  hills  and 
grinned.  That  grin  went  straight  to  my  heart.  Mechani- 
cally I  held  out  my  hand  and  Namgay  Doola  shook  it. 
No  pure  Thibetan  would  have  understood  the  meaning  of 
the  gesture.  He  went  away  to  look  for  his  clothes,  and 
as  he  climbed  back  to  his  village,  I  heard  a  joyous  yell 
that  seemed  unaccountably  familiar.  It  was  the  whoop- 
ing of  Namgay  Doola. 

'You  see  now/ said  the  King,  'why  I  would  not  kill 
him.  He  is  a  bold  man  among  my  logs,  but,'  and  he 
shook  his  head  like  a  schoolmaster,  'I  know  that  before 
long  there  will  be  complaints  of  him  in  the  court.  Let 
us  return  to  the  Palace  and  do  justice.'  It  was  that 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  329 

King's  custom  to  judge  his  subjects  every  day  between 
eleven  and  three  o'clock.  I  saw  him  decide  equitably  in 
weighty  matters  of  trespass,  slander,  and  a  little  wife- 
stealing.  Then  his  brow  clouded  and  he  summoned  me. 

'Again  it  is  Namgay  Doola,'  he  said  despairingly. 
'Not  content  with  refusing  revenue  on  his  own  part,  he 
has  bound  half  his  village  by  an  oath  to  the  like  treason. 
Never  before  has  such  a  thing  befallen  me  !  Nor  are  my 
taxes  heavy/ 

A  rabbit-faced  villager,  with  a  blush-rose  stuck  behind 
his  ear,  advanced  trembling.  He  had  been  in  the  con- 
spiracy, but  had  told  everything  and  hoped  for  the  King's 
favour. 

'0  King/  said  I.  'If  it  be  the  King's  will  let  this 
matter  stand  over  till  the  morning.  Only  the  Gods  can 
do  right  swiftly,  and  it  may  be  that  yonder  villager  has 
lied.' 

*  Nay,  for  I  know  the  nature  of  Namgay  Doola  ;  but 
since  a  guest  asks  let  the  matter  remain.  Wilt  thou 
speak  harshly  to  this  red-headed  outlander  ?  lie  may 
listen  to  thee.' 

I  made  an  attempt  that  very  evening,  but  for  the  life 
of  me  I  could  not  keep  my  countenance.  Namgay  Doola 
grinned  persuasively,  and  began  to  tell  me  about  a  big 
brown  bear  in  a  poppy-field  by  the  river.  Would  I  care 
to  shoot  it?  I  spoke  austerely  on  the  sin  of  conspiracy, 
and  the  certainty  of  punishment.  Namgay  Doola's  face 
clouded  for  a  moment.  Shortly  afterwards  he  withdrew 
from  my  tent,  and  I  heard  him  singing  to  himself  softly 
among  the  pines.  The  words  were  unintelligible  to  me, 
but  the  tune,  like  his  liquid  insinuating  speech,  seemed 
the  ghost  of  something  strangely  familiar. 

'  Dir  haiie  mard-i-yemen  dir 
To  \vecrce  it  la  gee,' 


330  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

sang  Namgay  Doola  again  and  again,  and  I  racked  my 
brain  for  that  lost  tune.  It  was  not  till  after  dinner 
that  I  discovered  some  one  had  cut  a  square  foot  of 
velvet  from  the  centre  of  my  best  camera-cloth.  This 
made  me  so  angry  that  I  wandered  down  the  valley  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  the  big  brown  bear.  I  could  hear 
him  grunting  like  a  discontented  pig  in  the  poppy-field, 
and  I  waited  shoulder  deep  in  the  dew-dripping  Indian 
corn  to  catch  him  after  his  meal.  The  moon  was  at  full 
and  drew  out  the  rich  scent  of  the  tasselled  crop.  Then  I 
heard  the  anguished  bellow  of  a  Himalayan  cow,  one  of  the 
little  black  crummies  no  bigger  than  Newfoundland  dogs. 
Two  shadows  that  looked  like  a  bear  and  her  cub  hurried 
past  me.  I  was  in  act  to  fire  when  I  saw  that  they  had 
each  a  brilliant  red  head.  The  lesser  animal  was  trail- 
ing some  rope  behind  it  that  left  a  dark  track  on  the 
path.  They  passed  within  six  feet  of  me,  and  the  shadow 
of  the  moonlight  lay  velvet-black  on  their  faces.  Velvet- 
black  was  exactly  the  word,  for  by  all  the  powers  of 
moonlight  they  were  masked  in  the  velvet  of  my  camera- 
cloth  !  I  marvelled  and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  the  Kingdom  was  in  uproar.  Namgay 
Doola,  men  said,  had  gone  forth  in  the  night  and  with  a 
sharp  knife  had  cut  off  the  tail  of  a  cow  belonging  to  the 
rabbit-faced  villager  who  had  betrayed  him.  It  was 
sacrilege  unspeakable  against  the  Holy  Cow.  The  State 
desired  his  blood,  but  he  had  retreated  into  his  hut,  bar- 
ricaded the  doors  and  windows  with  big  stones,  and  defied 
the  world. 

The  King  and  I  and  the  populace  approached  the  hut 
cautiously.  There  was  no  hope  of  capturing  the  man 
without  loss  of  life,  for  from  a  hole  in  the  wall  projected 
the  muzzle  of  an  extremely  well-cared-for  gun  — the  only 
gun  in  the  State  that  could  shoot.  Namgay  Doola  had 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  331 

narrowly  missed  a  villager  just  before  we  came  up.  The 
Standing  Army  stood.  It  could  do  no  more,  for  when  it 
advanced  pieces  of  sharp  shale  flew  from  the  windows. 
To  these  were  added  from  time  to  time  showers  of  scald- 
ing water.  We  saw  red  heads  bobbing  up  and  down 
in  the  hut.  The  family  of  Namgay  Doola  were  aiding 
their  sire,  and  blood-curdling  yells  of  defiance  were  the 
only  answers  to  our  prayers. 

'Never,'  said  the  King,  puffing,  'has  such  a  thing 
befallen  my  State.  Next  year  I  will  certainly  buy  a 
little  cannon.'  He  looked  at  me  imploringly. 

'  Is  there  any  priest  in  the  Kingdom  to  whom  he  will 
listen?'  said  I,  for  a  light  was  beginning  to  break  upon  me. 

'  He  worships  his  own  God,'  said  the  Prime  Minister. 
•We  can  starve  him  out.' 

'Let  the  white  man  approach,'  said  Namgay  Doola 
from  within.  'All  others  I  will  kill.  Send  me  the 
white  man/ 

The  door  was  thrown  open  and  I  entered  the  smoky 
interior  of  a  Thibetan  hut  crammed  with  children.  And 
every  child  had  flaming  red  hair.  A  raw  cow's-tail  lay 
on  the  floor,  and  by  its  side  two  pieces  of  black  velvet — 
my  black  velvet — rudely  hacked  into  the  semblance  of 
masks. 

'And  what  is  this  shame,  Namgay  Doola?'  said  I. 

He  grinned  more  winningly  than  over.  'There  is  no 
shame,'  said  he.  '  I  did  but  cut  off  the  tail  of  that  man's 
cow.  He  betrayed  me.  I  was  minded  to  shoot  him, 
Sahib.  But  not  to  death.  Indeed  not  to  death.  Only 
in  the  legs.' 

'  And  why  at  all,  since  it  is  the  custom  to  pay  revenue 
to  the  King?  Why  at  all?' 

'  By  the  God  of  my  father  I  cannot  tell,'  said  Namgay 
Doola. 


332  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'And  who  was  thy  father?' 

'The  same  that  had  this  gun.'  He  showed  me  his 
weapon — a  Tower  musket  bearing  date  1832  and  the 
stamp  of  the  Honourable  East  India  Company. 

'  And  thy  father's  name  ?'  said  I. 

'  Timlay  Doola/  said  he.  'At  the  first,  I  being  then 
a  little  child,  it  is  in  my  mind  that  he  wore  a  red 
coat.' 

'  Of  that  I  have  no  doubt.  But  repeat  the  name  of 
thy  father  thrice  or  four  times.' 

He  obeyed,  and  I  understood  whence  the  puzzling 
accent  in  his  speech  came.  'Thimla  Dhula,'  said  he 
excitedly.  'To  tins  hour  I  worship  his  God.' 

'May  I  see  that  God?' 

'  In  a  little  while — at  twilight  time.' 

'Rememberest  thou  aught  of  thy  father's  speech?' 

'  It  is  long  ago.  But  there  is  one  word  which  he  said 
often.  Thus  "Shun."  Then  I  and  my  brethren  stood 
upon  our  feet,  our  hands  to  our  sides.  Thus.' 

'Even  so.     And  what  was  thy  mother?' 

'A  woman  of  the  hills.  We  be  Lepchas  of  Darjeeling, 
but  me  they  call  an  outlander  because  my  hair  is  as  thou 
seest.' 

The  Thibetan  woman,  his  wife,  touched  him  on  the 
arm  gently.  The  long  parley  outside  the  fort  had  lasted 
far  into  the  day.  It  was  now  close  upon  twilight — the  hour 
of  the  Angel  us.  Very  solemnly,  the  red-headed  brats 
rose  from  the  floor  and  formed  a  semicircle.  Namgay 
Doola  laid  his  gun  against  the  wall,  lighted  a  little  oil 
lamp,  and  set  it  before  a  recess  in  the  wall.  Pulling 
aside  a  curtain  of  dirty  cloth,  he  revealed  a  worn  brass 
crucifix  leaning  against  the  helmet-badge  of  a  long  for- 
gotten East  India  regiment.  'Thus  did  my  father,' he 
said,  crossing  himself  clumsily.  The  wife  and  children 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  333 

followed  suit.  Then  all  together  they  struck  up  the  wail- 
ing chant  that  I  heard  on  the  hillside — 

Dir  bane  mard-i-yemen  dir 
To  weeree  ala  gee. 

I  was  puzzled  no  longer.  Again  and  again  they  crooned, 
as  if  their  hearts  would  break,  their  version  of  the  chorus 
of  the  Wearing  of  the  Green — 

They're  hanging  men  and  women  too, 
For  the  wearing  of  the  green. 

A  diabolical  inspiration  came  to  me.  One  of  the  brats,  a 
boy  about  eight  years  old,  was  watching  me  as  he  sang. 
I  pulled  out  a  rupee,  held  the  coin  between  finger  and 
thumb  and  looked — only  looked — at  the  gun  against  the 
wall.  A  grin  of  brilliant  and  perfect  comprehension 
overspread  the  face  of  the  child.  Never  for  an  instant 
stopping  the  song,  he  held  out  his  hand  for  the  money, 
and  then  slid  the  gun  to  my  hand.  I  might  have  shot 
Namgny  Doola  as  he  chanted.  But  I  was  satisfied.  The 
blood-instinct  of  the  race  held  true.  Namgay  Doola  drew 
the  curtain  across  the  recess.  Angelus  was  over. 

'  Thus  my  father  sung.  There  was  much  more,  but  I 
have  forgotten,  and  I  do  not  know  the  purport  of  these 
words,  but  it  may  be  that  the  God  will  understand.  I 
am  not  of  this  people,  and  I  will  not  pay  revenue.' 

'  And  why  ? ' 

Again  that  soul-compelling  grin.  'What  occupation 
would  be  to  me  between  crop  and  crop?  It  is  better 
than  scaring  bears.  But  these  people  do  not  understand.' 
He  picked  the  masks  from  the  floor,  and  looked  in  my 
face  as  simply  as  a  child. 

'  By  what  road  didst  tliou  attain  knowledge  to  make 
these  devilries?'  I  said,  pointing. 


334  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

'  I  cannot  tell.  I  am  but  a  Lepcha  of  Darjeeling,"and 
yet  the  stuff— 

*  Which  thou  hast  stolen.' 

'  Nay,  surely.  Did  I  steal  ?  I  desired  it  so.  The 
stuff — the  stuff — what  else  should  I  have  done  with  the 
stuff?'  He  twisted  the  velvet  between  his  fingers 

'  But  the  sin  of  maiming  the  cow — consider  that.' 

'That  is  true;  but  oh,  Sahib,  that  man  betrayed  me 
and  I  had  no  thought— but  the  heifer's  tail  waved  in  the 
moonlight  and  I  had  my  knife.  What  else  should  I  have 
done  ?  The  tail  came  off  ere  I  was  aware.  Sahib,  thou 
knowest  more  than  I.' 

'That  is  true,'  said  I.  'Stay  within  the  door.  I  go 
to  speak  to  the  King.' 

The  population  of  the  State  were  ranged  on  the  hill- 
sides. I  went  forth  and  spoke  to  the  King. 

'0  King,'  said  I.  'Touching  this  man  there  be  two 
courses  open  to  thy  wisdom.  Thou  canst  either  hang 
him  from  a  tree,  he  and  his  brood,  till  there  remains  no 
hair  that  is  red  within  the  land.' 

'Nay,' said  the  King.  'Why  should  I  hurt  the  little 
children  ?' 

They  had  poured  out  of  the  hut  door  and  were 
making  plump  obeisance  to  everybody.  Namgay  Doola 
waited  with  his  gun  across  his  arm. 

'Or  thou  canst,  discarding  the  impiety  of  the  cow- 
maiming,  raise  him  to  honour  in  thy  Army.  He  comes  of 
a  race  that  will  not  pay  revenue.  A  red  flame  is  in  his. 
blood  which  comes  out  at  the  top  of  his  head  in  that 
glowing  hair.  Make  him  chief  of  the  Army.  Give  him 
honour  as  may  befall,  and  full  allowance  of  work,  but 
look  to  it,  0  King,  that  neither  he  nor  his  hold  a  foot 
of  earth  from  thee  henceforward.  Feed  him  with  words 
and  favour,  and  also  liquor  from  certain  bottles  that  thou 


NAMGAY  DOOLA  335 

knowest  of,  and  he  will  be  a  bulwark  of  defence.  But 
deny  him  even  a  tuft  of  grass  for  his  own.  This  is  the 
nature  that  God  has  given  him.  Moreover  he  has 
brethren 

The  State  groaned  unanimously. 

'  But  if  his  brethren  come,  they  will  surely  fight  with 
each  other  till  they  die ;  or  else  the  one  will  always 
give  information  concerning  the  other.  Shall  he  be  of 
thy  Army,  0  King?  Choose.' 

The  King  bowed  his  head,  and  I  said,  '  Come  forth, 
Namgay  Doola,  and  command  the  King's  Army.  Thy 
Tiame  shall  no  more  be  Namgay  in  the  mouths  of  men, 
but  Putsay  Doola,  for  us  thou  hast  said,  I  know.' 

Then  Namgay  Doola,  new  christened  Patsay  Doola, 
son  of  Timlay  Doola,  which  is  Tim  Doolan  gone  very 
wrong  indeed,  clasped  the  King's  feet,  cuffed  the  Stand- 
ing Army,  and  hurried  in  an  agony  of  contrition  from 
temple  to  temple,  making  offerings  for  the  sin  of  cattle- 
maiming. 

And  the  King  was  so  pleased  with  my  perspicacity, 
that  he  offered  to  sell  me  a  village  for  twenty  pounds 
sterling.  But  I  buy  no  villages  in  the  Himalayas  so 
long  as  one  red  head  flares  between  the  tail  of  the 
heaven-climbing  glacier  and  the  dark  birch-forest. 

I  know  that  breed. 


BERTBAN  AND  BIMI 

THE  orang-outang  in  the  big  iron  cage  lashed  to  the 
sheep-pen  began  the  discussion.  The  night  was  stiflingly 
hot,  and  as  I  and  Hans  Breitmann,  the  big-beamed  Ger- 
man, passed  him,  dragging  our  bedding  to  the  fore-peak 
of  the  steamer,  he  roused  himself  and  chattered  obscenely. 
He  had  been  caught  somewhere  in  the  Malayan  Archi- 
pelago, and  was  going  to  England  to  be  exhibited  at  a 
shilling  a  head.  For  four  days  he  had  struggled,  yelled, 
and  wrenched  at  the  heavy  bars  of  his  prison  without 
ceasing,  and  had  nearly  slain  a  lascar,  incautious  enough 
to  come  within  reach  of  the  great  hairy  paw. 

'  It  would  be  well  for  you,  mine  friend,  if  you  was  a 
liddle  seasick,'  said  Hans  Breitmann,  pausing  by  the  cage. 
'  You  haf  too  much  Ego  in  your  Cosmos.' 

The  orang-outang's  arm  slid  out  negligently  from 
between  the  bars.  No  one  would  have  believed  that  it 
would  make  a  sudden  snakelike  rush  at  the  German's 
breast.  The  thin  silk  of  the  sleeping-suit  tore  out  ; 
Hans  stepped  back  unconcernedly  to  pluck  a  banana 
from  a  bunch  hanging  close  to  one  of  the  boats. 

'  Too  much  Ego,'  said  he,  peeling  the  fruit  and  offering 
it  to  the  caged  devil,  who  was  rending  the  silk  to  tatters. 

Then  we  laid  out  our  bedding  in  the  bows  among  the 
sleeping  Lascars,  to  catch  any  breeze  that  the  pace  of  the 
ship  might  give  us.  The  sea  was  like  smoky  oil,  except 


BERTRAN  AND  BIMI  337 

where  it  turned  to  fire  under  our  forefoot  and  whirled 
back  into  the  dark  in  smears  of  dull  flame.  There  was 
a  thunderstorm  some  miles  away  ;  we  could  see  the 
glimmer  of  the  lightning.  The  ship's  cow,  distressed  by 
the  heat  and  the  smell  of  the  ape-beast  in  the  cage,  lowed 
unhappily  from  time  to  time  in  exactly  the  same  key  as 
that  in  which  the  look-out  man  answered  the  hourly  call 
from  the  bridge.  The  trampling  tune  of  the  engines  was 
very  distinct,  and  the  jarring  of  the  ash-lift,  as  it  was 
tipped  into  the  sea,  hurt  the  procession  of  hushed  noise. 
Hans  lay  down  by  my  side  and  lighted  a  good-night 
cigar.  This  was  naturally  the  beginning  of  conversation. 
He  owned  a  voice  as  soothing  as  the  wash  of  the  sea, 
and  stores  of  experiences  as  vast  as  the  sea  itself ;  for 
his  business  in  life  was  to  wander  up  and  down  the 
world,  collecting  orchids  and  wild  beasts  and  ethnological 
specimens  for  German  and  American  dealers.  I  watched 
the  glowing  end  of  his  cigar  wax  and  wane  in  the  gloom, 
as  the  sentences  rose  and  fell,  till  I  was  nearly  asleep. 
The  orang-outang,  troubled  by  some  dream  of  the  forests 
of  his  freedom,  began  to  yell  like  a  soul  in  purgatory, 
and  to  pluck  madly  at  the  bars  of  the  cage. 

'  If  he  was  out  now  dere  would  not  be  much  of  us 
left  hereabout,'  said  Hans  lazily.  '  He  screams  goot. 
See,  now,  how  I  shall  tame  him  when  he  stops  himself.' 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  outcry,  and  from  Han?' 
mouth  came  an  imitation  of  a  snake's  hiss,  so  perfect  that 
I  almost  sprang  to  my  feet.  The  sustained  murderous 
sound  ran  along  the  deck,  and  the  wrenching  at  the  bars 
ceased.  The  orang-outang  was  quaking  in  an  ecstasy  of 
pure  terror. 

'  Dot  stopped  him,'  said  Hans.  '  I  learned  dot  trick 
in  Mogoung  Tanjong  when  I  was  collecting  liddle 
monkeys  for  some  peoples  in  Berlin.  Efery  one  in  der 


338  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

world  is  afraid  of  der  monkeys — except  der  snake.  So 
I  blay  snake  against  monkey,  and  he  keep  quite  still. 
Dere  was  too  much  Ego  in  his  Cosmos.  Dot  is  der  soul- 
custom  of  monkeys.  Are  you  asleep,  or  will  you  listen, 
and  I  will  tell  a  dale  dot  you  shall  not  pelief  ? ' 

'There's  no  tale  in  the  wide  world  that  I  can't 
believe,'  I  said. 

*  If  you  haf  learned  pelief  you  haf  learned  somedings. 
Now  I  shall  try  your  pelief.  Goot  !  When  I  was 
collecting  dose  liddle  monkeys — it  was  in  '79  or  '80,  und 
I  was  in  der  islands  of  der  Archipelago — over  dere  in  der 
dark'— he  pointed  southward  to  New  Guinea  generally 
— 'Mein  Gott  !  I  would  sooner  collect  life  red  devils 
than  liddle  monkeys.  When  dey  do  not  bite  off  your 
thumbs  dey  are  always  dying  from  nostalgia — home-sick 
— for  dey  haf  der  imperfect  soul,  which  is  midway 
arrested  in  defelopment — und  too  much  Ego.  I  was 
dere  for  nearly  a  year,  und  dere  I  found  a  man  dot  was 
called  Bert  ran.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  und  he  was 
goot  man — naturalist  to  his  bone.  Dey  said  he  was 
an  escaped  convict,  but  he  was  naturalist,  und  dot  was 
enough  for  me.  He  would  call  all  der  life  beasts  from 
der  forest,  und  dey  would  come.  I  said  he  was  St. 
Francis  of  Assizi  in  a  new  dransmigration  produced,  und 
he  laughed  und  said  he  haf  never  preach  to  der  fishes. 
He  sold  dem  for  tripang — beche-de-mer. 

'  Und  dot  man,  who  was  king  of  beasts-tamer  men,  he 
had  in  der  house  shust  such  anoder  as  dot  devil-animal 
in  der  cage — a  great  orang-outang  dot  thought  he  was  a 
man.  He  haf  found  him  when  he  was  a  child — der 
orang-outang — und  he  was  child  und  brother  und  opera 
comique  all  round  to  Betran.  He  had  his  room  in  dot 
house — not  a  cage,  but  a  room — mit  a  bed  und  sheets, 
und  he  would  go  to  bed  und  get  up  in  der  morning  und 


BERTRAN   AND  BIMI  339 

smoke  his  cigar  und  eat  his  dinner  mit  Bertrau,  und  walk 
mit  him  hand  in  hand,  which  was  most  horrible.  Herr 
Gott  !  I  haf  seen  dot  beast  throw  himself  back  in  his 
chair  und  laugh  when  Bertran  haf  made  fun  of  me.  He 
was  not  a  beast ;  he  was  a  man,  und  he  talked  to  Bertran, 
und  Bertran  comprehend,  for  I  have  seen  dem.  Und  he 
was  always  politeful  to  me  except  when  I  talk  too  long 
to  Bertran  und  say  nodings  at  all  to  him.  Den  he  would 
pull  me  away — dis  great,  dark  devil,  mit  his  enormous 
paws — shust  as  if  I  was  a  child.  He  was  not  a  beast ; 
he  was  a  man.  Dis  I  saw  pefore  I  know  him  three 
months,  und  Bertran  he  haf  saw  the  same  ;  and  Bimi, 
der  orang-outang,  haf  understood  us  both,  mit  his  cigar 
between  his  big  dog-teeth  und  der  blue  gum. 

'I  was  dere  a  year,  dere  und  at  dere  oder  islands — 
somedimes  for  monkeys  und  somedimes  for  butterflies  und 
orchits.  One  time  Bertran  says  to  me  dot  he  will  be 
married,  because  he  haf  found  a  girl  dot  was  goot,  und  he 
enquire  if  this  marrying  idee  was  right.  I  would  not 
say,  pecause  it  was  not  me  dot  was  going  to  be  married. 
Den  he  go  off  courting  der  girl — she  was  a  half-caste 
French  girl — very  pretty.  Haf  you  got  a  new  light  for 
my  cigar?  Ouf  !  Very  pretty.  Only  I  say,  "Haf  you 
thought  of  Bimi?  If  he  pull  me  away  when  I  talk  to 
you,  what  will  he  do  to  your  wife?  He  will  pull  her  in 
pieces.  If  I  was  you,  Bertran,  I  would  gif  my  wife  for 
wedding-present  der  stuff  figure  of  Bimi."  By  dot  time 
I  had  learned  some  dings  about  der  monkey  peoples. 
"  Shoot  him  ?  "  suys  Bertran.  "  He  is  your  beast,"  I  said  ; 
"if  he  was  mine  he  would  be  shot  now  !" 

'Den  I  felt  at  der  back  of  my  neck,  der  fingers  of 
Birni.  Mein  Gott  !  I  tell  you  dot  he  talked  through 
dose  fingers.  It  was  der  deaf-and-dumb  alphabet  all 
gomplete.  lie  slide  his  hairy  arm  round  my  neck,  und 


340  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

he  ti/t  up  my  chin  und  look  into  my  face,  shust  to  see 
if  I  understood  his  talk  so  well  as  he  understood  mine. 

'"See  now  'lere  ! "  says  Bertran,  "und  you  would 
moot  him  while  he  is  cuddlin'  you?  Dot  is  der  Teuton 
ingrate  ! " 

'  But  I  knew  dot  I  had  made  Bimi  a  life's-enemy, 
pecause  his  fingers  haf  talk  murder  through  the  back  of 
my  neck.  Next  dime  I  see  Bimi  dere  was  a  pistol  in 
my  belt,  und  be  touch  it  once,  und  I  open  der  breech  to 
show  him  it  was  loaded.  He  haf  seen  der  liddle  monkeys 
killed  in  der  woods  :  he  understood. 

*  So  Bertran  he  was  married,  and  he  forgot  clean  about 
Bimi  dot  was  skippin'  alone  on  der  beach  mit  der  half  of 
a  human  soul  in  his  belly.     I  was  see  him  skip,  und  he 
took  a  big  bough  und  thrash  der  sand  till  he  haf  made  a 
great  hole  like  a  grave.     So  I  says  to  Bertran,  "For  any 
sakos.  kill  Bimi.     He  is  mad  mit  der  jealousy." 

'  Bertran  haf  said  "  He  is  not  mad  at  all.  He  haf  obey 
und  lofe  my  wife,  und  if  she  speak  he  will  get  her  slippers," 
und  he  looked  at  his  wife  agross  der  room.  She  was  a 
very  pretty  girl. 

'  Den  I  said  to  him,  "  Dost  dou  pretend  to  know 
monkeys  und  dis  beast  dot  is  lashing  himself  mad  upon 
der  sands,  pecause  you  do  not  talk  to  him?  Shoot  him 
when  he  comes  to  der  house,  for  he  haf  der  light  in  his 
eye  dot  means  killing — und  killing."  Bimi  come  to  der 
house,  but  dere  was  no  light  in  his  eye.  It  was  all  put 
away,  cunning — go  cunning — und  he  fetch  der  girl  her 
slippers,  und  Bertran  turn  to  me  und  say,  "Dost  dou 
know  him  in  nine  months  more  dan  I  haf  known  him  in 
twelve  years?  .  Shall  a  child  stab  his  fader?  I  haf 
fed  him,  und  he  was  my  child.  Do  not  speak  this 
nonsense  to  my  wife  or  to  me  any  more." 

*  Dot  next  day  Bertran  came  to  my  house  to  help  me 


BERTRAN  AKD  BIMI  341 

make  some  wood  cases  for  der  specimens,  und  he  tell  me 
dot  he  haf  left  his  wife  a  liddle  while  mit  Bimi  in  der 
garden.  Den  I  finish  my  cases  quick,  und  I  say,  "Let  us 
go  to  your  houses  und  get  a  trink."  He  laugh  and  say, 
"  Come  along,  dry  mans." 

'His  wife  was  not  in  der  garden,  und  Bimi  did 
not  come  when  Bertran  called.  Und  his  wife  did  not 
come  when  he  called,  und  he  knocked  at  her  bedroom 
door  und  dot  was  shut  tight— locked.  Den  he  look  at 
me,  und  his  face  was  white.  I  broke  down  der  door  mit 
my  shoulder,  und  der  thatch  of  der  roof  was  torn  into  a 
great  hole,  und  der  sun  came  in  upon  der  floor.  Haf  you 
ever  seen  paper  in  der  waste-basket,  or  cards  at  whist 
on  der  table  scattered?  Dere  was  no  wife  dot  could  be 
seen.  I  tell  you  dere  was  nodings  in  dot  room  dot  might 
be  a  woman.  Dere  was  stuff  on  der  floor  und  dot  was 
all.  I  looked  at  dese  things  und  I  was  very  sick ;  but 
Bertran  looked  a  liddle  longer  at  what  was  upon  the  floor 
und  der  walls,  und  der  hole  in  der  thatch.  Den  he 
pegan  to  laugh,  soft  und  low,  und  I  knew  und  thank 
Gott  dot  he  was  mad.  He  nefer  cried,  lie  nefer  prayed. 
He  stood  all  still  in  der  doorway  und  laugh  to  himself. 
Den  he  said,  "She  haf  locked  herself  in  dis  room,  and  he 
haf  torn  up  der  thatch.  Fi  done  !  Dot  is  so.  We  will 
mend  der  thatch  und  wait  for  Bimi.  He  will  surely 
come." 

'I  tell  you  we  waited  ten  days  in  dot  house,  after  der 
room  was  made  into  a  room  again,  und  once  or  twice  we 
saw  Bimi  comin'  a  liddle  way  from  der  woods.  He  was 
afraid  pecause  he  haf  done  wrong.  Bertran  called  him 
when  he  was  come  to  look  on  the  tenth  day,  und  Bimi 
come  skipping  along  der  beach  und  making  noises,  mit  a 
long  piece  of  black  hair  in  his  hands.  Den  Bertran  laugh 
and  say,  " Fi  done!"  shust  as  if  it  was  a  glass  broken 


342  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

upon  der  table;  und  Bimi  come  nearer,  und  Bertran  was 
honey-sweet  in  his  voice  und  laughed  to  himself.  For 
three  days  he  made  love  to  Bimi,  pecause  Bimi  would  not 
let  himself  be  touched.  Den  Bimi  come  to  dinner  at 
der  same  table  mit  us,  und  the  hair  on  his  hands  was  all 
black  und  thick  mit — mit  what  had  dried  on  der  hands. 
Bertran  gave  him  sangaree  till  Bimi  was  drunk  and 
stupid,  und  den — 

Hans  paused  to  puff  at  his  cigar. 

*  And  then? 'said  I. 

'Und  den  Bertran  he  kill  him  mit  his  hands,  und  I 
go  for  a  walk  upon  der  beach.  It  was  Bertran's  own 
piziness.  When  I  come  back  der  ape  he  was  dead,  und 
Bertran  he  was  dying  abofe  him;  but  still  he  laughed 
liddle  und  low  und  he  was  quite  content.  Now  you 
know  der  formula  of  der  strength  of  der  orang-outang — 
it  is  more  as  seven  to  one  in  relation  to  man.  But 
Bertran,  he  haf  killed  Bimi  mit  sooch  dings  as  Gott  gif 
him.  Dot  was  der  miracle.' 

The  infernal  clamour  in  the  cage  recommenced.  '  Aha  ! 
Dot  friend  of  ours  haf  still  too  much  Ego  in  his  Cosmos. 
Be  quiet,  dou  ! ' 

Hans  hissed  long  and  venomously.  We  could  hear 
the  great  beast  quaking  in  his  cage. 

*  But  why  in  the  world  didn't  you  help  Bertran  instead 
of  letting  him  be  killed  ?'  I  asked. 

'  My  friend,'  said  Hans,  composedly  stretching  himself 
to  slumber,  '  it  was  not  nice  even  to  mineself  dot  I  should 
live  after  I  haf  seen  dot  room  mit  der  hole  in  der 
thatch.  Und  Bertran,  he  was  her  husband.  Goot-uight, 
und — sleep  well.' 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  coffee-planter  in  India 
who  wished  to  clear  some  forest  land  for  coffee-planting. 
When  he  had  cut  down  all  the  trees  and  burned  the 
under-wood  the  stumps  still  remained.  Dynamite  is 
expensive  and  slow-fire  slow.  The  happy  medium  for 
stump-clearing  is  the  lord  of  all  beasts,  who  is  the  elephant 
He  will  either  push  the  stump  out  of  the  ground  with 
his  tusks,  if  he  has  any,  or  drag  it  out  with  ropes.  The 
planter,  therefore,  hired  elephants  by  ones  and  twos  and 
threes,  and  fell  to  work.  The  very  best  of  all  the 
elephants  belonged  to  the  very  worst  of  all  the  drivers  or 
mahouts;  and  the  superior  beast's  name  was  Moti  Guj. 
He  was  the  absolute  property  of  his  mahout,  which  would 
never  have  been  the  case  under  native  rule,  for  Moti  Guj 
was  a  creature  to  be  desired  by  kings;  and  his  name, 
being  translated,  meant  the  Pearl  Elephant.  Because  the 
British  Government  was  in  the  land,  Deesa,  the  mahout, 
enjoyed  his  property  undisturbed.  He  was  dissipated. 
When  he  had  made  much  money  through  the  strength  of 
his  elephant,  he  would  get  extremely  drunk  and  give 
Moti  Guj  a  beating  with  a  tent-peg  over  the  tender  nails 
of  the  forefeet.  Moti  Guj  never  trampled  the  life  out  of 
Deesa  on  these  occasions,  for  he  knew  that  after  the 
beating  was  over  Deesa  would  embrace  his  trunk  and 
weep  and  call  him  his  love  and  his  life  and  the  liver  of 


344  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

his  soul,  and  give  him  some  liquor.  Moti  Guj  was  very 
fond  of  liquor — arrack  for  choice,  though  he  would  drink 
palm-tree  toddy  if  nothing  better  offered.  Then  Deesa 
would  go  to  sleep  between  Moti  Guj's  forefeet,  and  as 
Deesa  generally  chose  the  middle  of  the  public  road,  and 
as  Moti  Guj  mounted  guard  over  him  and  would  not 
permit  horse,  foot,  or  cart  to  pass  by,  traffic  was  congested 
till  Deesa  saw  fit  to  wake  up. 

There  was  no  sleeping  in  the  daytime  on  the  planter's 
clearing:  the  wages  were  too  high  to  risk.  Deesa  sat  on 
Moti  Guj's  neck  and  gave  him  orders,  while  Moti  Guj 
rooted  up  the  stumps — for  he  owned  a  magnificent  pair 
of  tusks;  or  pulled  at  the  end  of  a  rope — for  he  had  a 
magnificent  pair  of  shoulders,  while  Deesa  kicked  him 
behind  the  ears  and  said  he  was  the  king  of  elephants. 
At  evening  time  Moti  Guj  would  wash  down  his  three 
hundred  pounds'  weight  of  green  food  with  a  quart  of 
arrack,  and  Deesa  would  take  a  share  and  sing  songs 
between  Moti  Guj's  legs  till  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed. 
Once  a  week  Deesa  led  Moti  Guj  down  to  the  river,  and 
Moti  Guj  lay  on  his  side  luxuriously  in  the  shallows, 
while  Deesa  went  over  him  with  a  coir-swab  and  a  brick. 
Moti  Guj  never  mistook  the  pounding  blow  of  the  latter 
for  the  smack  of  the  former  that  warned  him  to  get  up 
and  turn  over  on  the  other  side.  Then  Deesa  would 
look  at  his  feet,  and  examine  his  eyes,  and  turn  up  the 
fringes  of  his  mighty  ears  in  case  of  sores  or  budding 
ophthalmia.  After  inspection,  the  two  would  'come 
up  with  a  song  from  the  sea/  Moti  Guj  all  black 
and  shining,  waving  a  torn  tree  branch  twelve  feet 
long  in  his  trunk,  and  Deesa  knotting  up  his  own  long 
wet  hair. 

It  was  a  peaceful,  well-paid  life  till  Deesa  felt  the 
return  of  the  desire  to  drink  deep.  lie  wished  for  an 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER  345 

orgie.  The  little  draughts  that  led  nowhere  were  taking 
the  manhood  out  of  him. 

He  went  to  the  planter,  and  '  My  mother's  dead/  said 
he,  weeping. 

'She  died  on  the  last  plantation  two  months  ago;  and 
she  died  once  before  that  when  you  were  working  for  me 
last  year,'  said  the  planter,  who  knew  something  of  the 
ways  of  nativedom. 

'  Then  it's  my  aunt,  and  she  was  just  the  same  as  a 
mother  to  me,'  said  Deesa,  weeping  more  than  ever. 
'  She  has  left  eighteen  small  children  entirely  without 
bread,  and  it  is  I  who  must  fill  their  little  stomachs/  said 
Deesa,  beating  his  head  on  the  floor. 

'  Who  brought  you  the  news  ? '  said  the  planter. 

'  The  post,'  said  Deesa. 

'There  hasn't  been  a  post  here  for  the  past  week. 
Get  back  to  your  lines!' 

'  A  devastating  sickness  has  fallen  on  my  village,  and 
all  my  wives  are  dying,'  yelled  Deesa,  really  in  tears  this 
time. 

'  Call  Chihun,  who  comes  from  Deesa's  village/  said 
the  planter.  '  Chihun,  has  this  man  a  wife  ?' 

'He!'  said  Chihun.  'No.  Not  a  woman  of  our 
village  would  look  at  him.  They'd  sooner  marry  the 
elephant.'  Chihun  snorted.  Deesa  wept  and  bellowed. 

'You  will  get  into  a  difficulty  in  a  minute/  said  the 
planter.  '  Go  back  to  your  work ! ' 

'  Now  I  will  speak  Heaven's  truth/  gulped  Deesa, 
with  an  inspiration.  'I  haven't  been  drunk  for  two 
months.  I  desire  to  depart  in  order  to  get  properly 
drunk  afar  off  and  distant  from  this  heavenly  plantation. 
Thus  I  shall  cause  no  trouble.' 

A  flickering  smile  crossed  the  planter's  face.  '  Doesa/ 
said  he,  'you've  spoken  the  truth,  and  I'd  give  you  leave 


346  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

on  the  spot  if  anything  could  be  done  with  Moti  Guj 
while  you're  away.  You  know  that  he  will  only  obey 
your  orders/ 

1  May  the  Light  of  the  Heavens  live  forty  thousand  years. 
I  shall  be  absent  but  ten  little  days.  After  that,  upon 
my  faith  and  honour  and  soul,  1  return.  As  to  the  in- 
considerable interval,  have  I  the  gracious  permission  of 
the  Heaven-born  to  call  up  Moti  Guj?' 

Permission  was  granted,  and,  in  answer  to  Deesa's 
shrill  yell,  the  lordly  tusker  swung  out  of  the  shade  of 
a  clump  of  trees  where  he  had  been  squirting  dust  over 
himself  till  his  master  should  return. 

'  Light  of  my  heart,  Protector  of  the  Drunken,  Mount- 
ain of  Might,  give  ear/  said  Deesa,  standing  in  front  of 
him. 

Moti  Guj  gave  ear,  and  saluted  with  his  trunk.  *  I 
am  going  away,'  said  Deesa. 

Moti  Guj's  eyes  twinkled.  He  liked  jaunts  as  well 
as  his  master.  One  could  snatch  all  manner  of  nice 
things  from  the  roadside  then. 

'But  you,  you  fubsy  old  pig,  must  stay  behind  and 
work.' 

The  twinkle  died  out  as  Moti  Guj  tried  to  look 
delighted.  He  hated  stump-hauling  on  the  plantation. 
It  hurt  his  teeth. 

'  I  shall  be  gone  for  ten  days,  0  Delectable  One.  Hold 
up  your  near  forefoot  and  I'll  impress  the  fact  upon  it, 
warty  toad  of  a  dried  mud-puddle/  Deesa  took  a  tent- 
peg  and  banged  Moti  Guj  ten  times  on  the  nails.  Moti 
Guj  grunted  and  shuffled  from  foot  to  foot. 

'Ten  days,'  said  Deesa,  'you  must  work  and  haul  and 
root  trees  as  Chihun  here  shall  order  you.  Take  up 
Chihun  and  set  him  on  your  neck ! '  Moti  Guj  curled 
the  tip  of  his  trunk,  Chihun  put  his  foot  there  and  was 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER  347 

swung  on  to  the  neck.  Deesa  handed  Chilian  the  heavy 
ankus,  the  iron  elephant-goad. 

Chihun  thumped  Moti  Guj's  bald  head  as  a  paviour 
thumps  a  kerbstone. 

Moti  Guj  trumpeted. 

*  Be    still,    hog    of    the    backwoods.     Chihun's    your 
mahout  for  ten  days.     And  now  bid  me  good-bye,  beast 
after  mine  own  heart.     Oh,  my  lord,  my  king  !     Jewel  of 
all  created   elephants,  lily    of  the   herd,    preserve  your 
honoured  health;  be  virtuous.     Adieu!' 

Moti  Guj  lapped  his  trunk  round  Deesa  and  swung 
him  into  the  air  twice.  That  was  his  way  of  bidding 
the  man  good-bye. 

*  He'll  work  now,'  said  Deesa  to  the  planter.     '  Have 
I  leave  to  go  ? ' 

The  planter  nodded,  and  Deesa  dived  into  the  woods. 
Moti  Guj  went  back  to  haul  stumps. 

Chihun  was  very  kind  to  him,  but  he  felt  unhappy 
and  forlorn  notwithstanding.  Chihun  gave  him  balls  of 
spices,  and  tickled  him  under  the  chin,  and  Chihun's 
little  baby  cooed  to  him  after  work  was  over,  and 
Chihun's  wife  called  him  a  darling;  but  Moti  Guj  was  a 
bachelor  by  instinct,  as  Deesa  was.  He  did  not  under- 
stand the  domestic  emotions.  lie  wanted  the  light  of  his 
universe  back  again — the  drink  and  the  drunken  slumber, 
the  savage  beatings  and  the  savage  caresses. 

None  the  less  he  worked  well,  and  the  planter 
wondered.  Deesa  had  vagabonded  along  the  roads  till  lie 
met  a  marriage  procession  of  his  own  caste  and,  drinking, 
dancing,  and  tippling,  had  drifted  past  all  knowledge  of 
the  lapse  of  time. 

The  morning  of  the  eleventh  day  dawned,  and  there 
returned  no  Deesa.  Moti  Guj  was  loosed  from  his  ropes 
for  the  daily  stint.  He  swung  clear,  looked  round, 


348  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  begun  to  walk  away,  as  one 
having  business  elsewhere. 

'  Hi!  ho!  Come  back,  you/  shouted  Chihun.  '  Come 
back,  and  put  me  on  your  neck,  Misborn  Mountain.  Re- 
turn, Splendour  of  the  Hillsides.  Adornment  of  all  India, 
heave  to,  or  I'll  bang  every  toe  off  your  fat  forefoot! ' 

Moti  Guj  gurgled  gently,  but  did  not  obey.  Chihun 
ran  after  him  with  a  rope  and  caught  him  up.  Moti  Guj 
put  his  ears  forward,  and  Chihun  knew  what  that  meant, 
though  he  tried  to  carry  it  off  with  high  words. 

'None  of  your  nonsense  with  me/  said  he.  'To  your 
pickets,  Devil-son/ 

'  Hrrump ! '  said  Moti  Guj,  and  that  was  all — that 
and  the  forebent  ears. 

Moti  Guj  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  chewed  a 
branch  for  a  toothpick,  and  strolled  about  the  clearing, 
making  jest  of  the  other  elephants,  who  had  just  set  to  work. 

Chihun  reported  the  state  of  affairs  to  the  planter, 
who  came  out  with  a  dog-whip  and  cracked  it  furiously. 
Moti  Guj  paid  the  white  man  the  compliment  of  charging 
him  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  across  the  clearing  and 
'Hrrumping'  him  into  the  verandah.  Then  he  stood 
outside  the  house  chuckling  to  himself,  and  shaking  all 
over  with  the  fun  of  it,  as  an  elephant  will. 

'  We'll  thrash  him/  said  the  planter.  '  He  shall  have 
the  finest  thrashing  that  ever  elephant  received.  Give 
Kala  Xag  and  Nazim  twelve  foot  of  chain  apiece,  and  tell 
them  to  lay  on  twenty  blows.' 

Kala  Nag — which  means  Black  Snake — and  Nazim 
were  two  of  the  biggest  elephants  in  the  lines,  and  one  of 
their  duties  was  to  administer  the  graver  punishments, 
since  no  man  can  beat  an  elephant  properly. 

They  took  the  whipping-chains  and  rattled  them  in 
their  trunks  as  they  sidled  up  to  Moti  Guj,  meaning  to 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER  349 

hustle  him  between  them.  Moti  Guj  hud  never,  in  all 
his  life  of  thirty-nine  years,  been  whipped,  and  he  did  not 
intend  to  open  new  experiences.  So  he  waited,  weaving 
his  head  from  right  to  left,  and  measuring  the  precise 
spot  in  Kala  Nag's  fat  side  where  a  blunt  tusk  would 
sink  deepest.  Kala  Nag  had  no  tusks ;  the  chain  was 
his  badge  of  authority ;  but  he  judged  it  good  to  swing 
wide  of  Moti  Guj  at  the  last  minute,  and  seem  to  appear 
as  if  he  had  brought  out  the  chain  for  amusement. 
Nazim  turned  round  and  went  home  early.  He  did  not 
feel  fighting-fit  that  morning,  and  so  Moti  Guj  was  left 
standing  alone  with  his  ears  cocked. 

That  decided  the  planter  to  argue  no  more,  and  Moti 
Guj  rolled  back  to  his  inspection  of  the  clearing.  An 
elephant  who  will  not  work,  and  is  not  tied  up,  is  not 
quite  so  manageable  as  an  eighty-one  ton  gun  loose  in  a 
heavy  sea-way.  He  slapped  old  friends  on  the  back  and 
asked  them  if  the  stumps  were  coming  away  easily;  lie 
talked  nonsense  concerning  labour  and  the  inalienable 
rights  of  elephants  to  a  long  'nooning';  and,  wandering 
to  and  fro,  thoroughly  demoralized  the  garden  till  sun- 
down, when  he  returned  to  his  pickets  for  food. 

*  If  you  won't  work  you  shan't  eat,'  said  Chihun 
angrily.  *  You're  a  wild  elephant,  and  no  educated  animal 
at  all.  Go  back  to  your  jungle.' 

Chilian's  little  brown  baby,  rolling  on  the  floor  of  the 
hut,  stretched  its  fat  arms  to  the  huge  shadow  in  the 
doorway.  Moti  Guj  knew  well  that  it  was  the  dearest 
thing  on  earth  to  Chihun.  He  swung  out  his  trunk  with 
a  fascinating  crook  at  the  end,  and  the  brown  baby  threw 
itself  shouting  upon  it.  Moti  Guj  made  fast  and  pulled 
up  till  the  brown  baby  was  crowing  in  the  air  twelve  feet 
above  his  father's  head. 

'  Great  Chief  ! '  said  Chihun.     '  Flour  cakes  of  the  best, 


350  LIFE'S  HANDICAP 

twelve  in  number,  two  feet  across,  and  soaked  in  rum 
shall  be  yours  on  the  instant,  and  two  hundred  pounds' 
weight  of  fresh-cut  young  sugar-cane  therewith.  Deign 
only  to  put  down  safely  that  insignificant  brat  who  is  my 
heart  and  my  life  to  me.' 

Moti  Guj  tucked  the  brown  baby  comfortably  between 
his  forefeet,  that  could  have  knocked  into  toothpicks  all 
(Jliihun's  hut,  and  waited  for  his  food.  lie  ate  it,  and  the 
brown  baby  crawled  away.  Moti  Guj  dozed,  and  thought 
of  Deesa.  One  of  many  mysteries  connected  with  the 
elephant  is  that  his  huge  body  needs  less  sleep  than  any- 
thing else  that  lives.  Four  or  five  hours  in  the  night 
suffice — two  just  before  midnight,  lying  down  on  one  side; 
two  just  after  one  o'clock,  lying  down  on  the  other. 
The  rest  of  the  silent  hours  are  filled  with  eating  and 
fidgeting  and  long  grumbling  soliloquies. 

At  midnight,  therefore,  Moti  Guj  strode  out  of  his 
pickets,  for  a  thought  had  come  to  him  that  Deesa  might 
be  lying  drunk  somewhere  in  the  dark  forest  with  none 
to  look  after  him.  So  all  that  night  he  chased  through 
the  undergrowth,  blowing  and  trumpeting  and  shaking 
his  ears.  He  went  down  to  the  river  and  blared  across 
the  shallows  where  Deesa  used  to  wash  him,  but  there 
was  no  answer.  He  could  not  find  Deesa,  but  he  dis- 
turbed all  the  elephants  in  the  lines,  and  nearly  frightened 
to  death  some  gypsies  in  the  woods. 

At  dawn  Deesa  returned  to  the  plantation.  He  had 
been  very  drunk  indeed,  and  he  expected  to  fall  into 
trouble  for  outstaying  his  leave.  He  drew  a  long  breath 
when  he  saw  that  the  bungalow  and  the  plantation  were 
still  uninjured;  for  he  knew  something  of  Moti  Guj's 
temper;  and  reported  himself  with  many  lies  and  salaams. 
Moti  Guj  had  gone  to  his  pickets  for  breakfast.  His 
night  exercise  had  made  him  hungry. 


MOTI  GUJ— MUTINEER  351 

'Call  up  your  beast/  said  the  planter,  and  Deesa 
shouted  in  the  mysterious  elephant-language,  that  some 
mahouts  believe  came  from  China  at  the  birth  of  the 
world,  when  elephants  and  not  men  were  masters.  Moti 
Guj  heard  and  came.  Elephants  do  not  gallop.  They 
move  from  spots  at  varying  rates  of  speed.  If  an  ele- 
phant wished  to  catch  an  express  train  he  could  not 
gallop,  but  he  could  catch  the  train.  Thus  Moti  Guj  was 
at  the  planter's  door  almost  before  Chihun  noticed  that 
he  had  left  his  pickets.  He  fell  into  Deesa's  arms 
trumpeting  with  joy,  and  the  man  and  beast  wept  and 
slobbered  over  each  other,  and  handled  each  other  from 
head  to  heel  to  see  that  no  harm  had  befallen. 

'  Now  we  will  get  to  work,'  said  Deesa.  '  Lift  me  up, 
my  son  and  my  joy.' 

Moti  Guj  swung  him  up  and  the  two  went  to  the 
coffee-clearing  to  look  for  irksome  stumps. 

The  planter  was  too  astonished  to  be  very  angry. 


L'ENVOI 

JfY  new-cut  ashlar  takes  the  light 

Where  crimson-blank  the  windows  flam; 

By  my  own  work,  before  the  night, 
Great  Overseer,  I  make  my  prayer. 

If  there  be  good  in  that  I  wrought, 

Thy  hand  compelled  it,  Master,  Thine; 

Where  I  have  failed  to  meet  Thy  thought 
I  know,  through  Thee,  the  blame  is  mine, 

One  instant's  toU  to  Thee  denied 

Stands  all  Eternity's  offence, 
Of  that  I  did  with  Thee  to  guide 

To  Thee,  through  Thee,  be  excellence. 

Who,  lest  aU  thought  of  Eden  fade, 
JBring'st  Eden  to  the  craftsman's  brain, 

Godlike  to  muse  o'er  his  own  trade 
And  Manlike  stand  with  God  again. 

The  depth  and  dream  of  my  desire, 
The  bitter  paths  wherein  I  stray, 

Thou  knowest  Who  hast  made  the  Fire, 
Thou  knowest  Who  hast  made  the  Clay. 

One  stone  the  more  swings  to  her  place 

In  that  dread  Temple  of  Thy  Worth- 
It  is  enough  that  through  Thy  grace 
I  saw  naught  common  on  Thy  earth. 

Take  not  that  vision  from  my  ken; 

Oh  whatsoe'er  may  spoil  or  speed. 
Help  me  to  need  no  aid  from  men 

That  I  may  help  such  men  as  need/ 


NEW   UNIFORM  EDITION    OF  THE  STORIES    OF  RUDYARD   KIPLING. 
Siz  volumes,  iamo,  cloth. 


PLAIN    TALES   FROM    THE    HILLS. 

New  Edition.    12mo,  cloth,  91.25. 

"  Mr.  Kipling  knows  and  appreciates  the  English  in  India,  and  is  a  born  story- 
teller and  a  man  of  humour  into  the  bargain.  ...  It  would  be  hard  to  find  better 
reading." —  The  Saturday  Review,  London. 


THE   LIGHT  THAT    FAILED. 

New  Edition.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

"' The  Light  that  Failed '  is  an  organic  whole  — a  book  with  a  backbone  —  and 
stands  out  boldly  among  the  nerveless,  flaccid,  invertebrate  things  that  enjoy  an 
expensive  but  ephemeral  existence  in  the  circulating  libraries." —  The  Atheneeum. 


LIFE'S    HANDICAP. 

STORIES   OF   MINE  OWN    PEOPLE. 
New  Edition.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

nd  of 

which  has  given  his  stories  such  deserved  Dooularitv."  —  Bi 
Daily  Traveler. 


"No  volume  of  his  yet  published  gives  a  better  illustration  of  his  genius,  and 
the  weird  charm  which  has  given  his  stories  such  deserved  popularity."  —  Boston 


THE    NAULAHKA. 

A  Story  of  East  and  West. 

By  RUDYARD   KIPLING  and  WOLCOTT   BALESTIER. 
12)110,  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  What  is  the  most  surprising,  and  at  the  same  time  most  admirable,  in  this  book,  is 
the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Kipling  seems  to  grasp  the  character  of  the  native  women; 
we  know  of  nothing  in  the  English  language  of  its  kind  to  compare  with  Chapter 
XX.  in  its  delicacy  and  genuine  sympathy." 


UNDER  THE  DEODARS, THE  PHANTOM  'RICK- 
SHAW, AND  WEE  WILLIE  WINKIE. 

With  additional  matter,  now  published  for  the  first  time. 
I  .'mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 


SOLDIERS   THREE,  THE    STORY   OF   THE 
GADSBYS,  and  BLACK  AND  WHITE. 

Also  together  with  additional  matter. 

12mo,  cloth,  81.25. 


BALLADS   AND    BARRACK-ROOM    BALLADS. 

12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  Mr.  Kipling  differs  from  other  ballad-writers  of  the  day  in  that  he  has  that  rare 
possession,  imagination,  and  he  has  the  temerity  to  speak  out  what  is  in  him  with  no 
conventional  reservations  or  deference  to  the  hypocrisies  of  public  opinion." —  Boston 
Beacon. 

THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY, 

66  FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW   YORK. 


MR.  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD'S  WORKS. 


THE  RALSTONS. 


A  SEQUEL  TO  "KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE." 

Two  volumes,  bound  in  polished  buckram,  in  box,  $2.00, 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Illustrated.    Two  volumes,  small  121110,  buckram,  $2.00. 


UNIFORM   EDITION 


MR.    F.    MARION    CRAWFORD'S    NOVELS. 

i2mo,  cloth,  $1.00  each. 


PIETRO  GHISLERI. 

DON  ORSINO. 

A  sequel  to  "  Saracinesca  "  and 
"  Sant '  Ilario." 

THE  THREE  FATES. 
THE  WITCH  OF  PRAGUE. 

KHALED. 

A  CIGARETTE-MAKER'S 

ROMANCE. 
SANT'   ILARIO.      A  sequel  to 

"  Saracinesca." 
GREIFENSTEIN. 
WITH  THE  IMMORTALS. 


TO  LEEWARD. 

MARION  DARCHE. 

A  ROMAN  SINGER. 

AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

PAUL  PATOFF. 

MARZIO'S  CRUCIFIX. 

SARACINESCA. 

A  TALE  OF  A  LONELY 

PARISH. 
ZOROASTER. 
DR.  CLAUDIUS. 
MR.  ISAACS. 
CHILDREN  OF  THE  KING. 


THE  MACM1LLAN   COMPANY, 

66  FIFTH   AVENUE,    NEW   YORK. 


A    001  116853     1 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 


JUM  30  1977 

JAN  2  4  DFH1 

Cl  39 

UCSD  Lifer. 

